light in the garden

@poet’s corner 4 march 2026

hello. i am thrilled by the recent evidence of sunshine. the theme took me back to a weekend last summer. i was in london with my girlfriend to run a 10k and visit friends and family. on two occasions that weekend i sat on a sofa in a garden by blooming apple trees, shading myself from the hot sun. and this is what i wrote at the time:

backpack to london
for the downtown fun run
ladybirds, butterflies,
apple trees
and sofas in the sun
through the field of wheat
like a young theresa may
teal dragonfly perched
on a vibrant green
leaf above a rust bed stream
we wade with baggy minnows
by the weeping willow
clock two foxes,
attempt avuncular football
scorched between the bridges
peddle assisted
to the bucket hat photobomb
goosebumps on
the cold carriage home

that made me think of holiday poetry more generally. i always try and record my holidays in poetry. i don’t know why i don’t just take photos like everyone else. this was a trip to wales with my girlfriend’s family, including multiple young nieces and nephews.

we pick brambles by nebo
up the lane from nazareth
hold a toddler up a boulder
you know slow is not
intrinsically good or bad
park the motor
don’t feed the metre
tempo of doms
get a parking fine
waitrose cafe
avocado experiment
free tuna baguette
for the crash test dummy
swings, roundabouts
humming a christmas song
i guess i feel like i’m one of the uncles
from home alone
all our kisses are stolen
kids voices climb the stairs
white hairs in my moustache
catch the light in the morning mirror
visit the folly hotel of port merienion
lily pads and various trees
a beach that doesn’t reach the sea
sleep in and miss the hike
overdosed on the house party life
read a book to ariana
mostly seems to bore her
well she asked me to
then the last supper
aubergine, cheese and garlic
you drive me home
i’m a good passenger you say
i’m infinitely patient
and never complain
but pray silently as we speed towards the
slowing car ahead
drop the car off at the airport
and run back to town
both bridges are out
so i take the subway home
as do you
in the other direction

and finally this isn’t on theme but almost worked with last week’s theme of chips. this next bit is written from the perspective of a tender stem broccoli and hence all opinions contained within it are not necessarily my own.

the last antipasti

broccoli can’t be a prize,
everyone says,
or would say
if inquired of.
but my stem’s tender
as a lover’s thighs,
crunchy with salt,
drenched in rendered
fat, yum
pair me with focaccia
and dipstick me
in extra virgin
verging on
extravagant…
a celebrity
of humble bent

mind the time
you overordered carbohydrates
a panicked salad reprobate
arancini, croquettes and chips,
you had a need that i could sate
pumped with protein
and polyphenols
light and taut
and a little bit special

trust me,
flake almonds upon me,
indulge in fulgent greens
i answer your troubles
with charm and sheen
there is no knowledge
but sensation
so slide on in
to my dm’s
the merlot refill
unexpectedly chilled,
effervescent on your tongue
makes you cry yum, yum

confidence is recklessness incarnate
so crunch my fibrous branches so delicate
are you here for sublime?
or did you get lost looking for
the beige light district?
over by the camp
but closeted quarter?
oh yeah have another breadstick,
fill up on brie
i know you’ll be back for me

perhaps i can attract
one of your more stylish companions
i grew in the alluvial soils of campania,
learned english from hollywood movies,
reared on volcanic aqua minerale
and the sun’s patterns
you, with the specs,
you don’t wanna eat yet?
i can feel i’m cold.
was it yesterday? really yesterday?
bathing in the sunshine
when yanked,
quite jolted,
held tight in a gauntlet
flung in a crate,
i’ve been in the shade,
a day, who knows
they seared me!
and i’m here,
with the almonds,
but the plate’s cold.
all the sundried tomatoes are gone
the salami too
even the mortadella

oh, love may be king
in napoli
but fortune favours
brocolli
yes someone will
come back for me

i remember
when i was young sprout
thinking that if i was the first human
it would never have occurred to me
to eat food
or make love
that was an absurd thought
for a cruciferous vegetable, i know
but come on and eat me,
end this limbo
let me go
my whole life
flashes before my florets
i’m sliding off the plate
into the wastebasket
into the bin
a cardinal sin
and you know
i don’t see any chips in here,
you philistines.
i am a prize!
how did this happen to me?
am i weird looking,
or weird being?
you reach the top
you’re hot
and then you’re not
just one shot
then you’re compost.
it’ll happen to you too
one day.
memento mori.
i regret nothing.