In The Garden Groves

Ribbit and whizz of the

garden keepers ring, a robot

and a human of mechanical

wings.

Tend to the garden in which

grows, whack wood hewn

from hollows of below.

A pinch of plumb-snick

leaves, sprouting purple

candlesticks in a fruitful

cleave.

The hush of scented air

ripening puddings of

snuffle-snort pears.

Star dust singing to the

lily-chuff vines, a rumble

on which to politely dine.

A silver spoon of gulp

and guild, thickening briar

bridges built.

Watering flower gurgles

from honey bees, the

garden preening under

a galactic breeze.