An Ode to Bradford-on-Avon Station Garden

A garden by the platform has been made 
not seen by those who wait for trains, frustrated 
I turn and wander through this well-kempt glade 
and quickly find my own mood is placated.  

Some stepping stones a rustic pathway make 
through beds with shrubs and flowers decorated 
What would be waste is tamed by hoe and rake 
now seen by me and much appreciated. 

A secret sidestep from the mundane march 
How long in humble silence has it waited 
For someone to step through the bowered arch? 
How long to be enjoyed, appreciated? 

Who planned ahead and knew the time to toil? 
Our need for cold-month cheer anticipated 
by planting bulbs for colour in the soil? 
Their caring forethought is appreciated. 

Still further in, the glade becomes a copse 
A host of lofty trees is congregated 
And woodland birds sing out from in their tops 
As if to say they too appreciate it 

To those who’ve conjured spaces of respect 
sweet public plots to Calmness consecrated 
in places that had suffered from neglect 
Just so you know: it is appreciated. 

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