The Night Garden Poem by John Rickell

I walked the night garden shadows of gentle grey,
lit by the sickle moon stood still and silent
the warmth of the summer's day rose to mist the air
bearing flowery fragrance to the sleepy leaves,
silent still, still and silent, gentle grey
the pool its water-lily, golden fin, and lily pads
beside the sickle moon, reflected in the glassy water
lay still, silent still glazed and grey and calm
quiet to burst the ears only a heart-beat pulse
to count the slow grey hours.
Colours of the sunny day take rest, leaves turgid now
after the heat of day, pinks of lilies, whites of daisies
dressed now in shades of grey, gentle... sleepy.... grey
slumber in the silver light of the moon
reflecting in the pool.
The owl and bat and moth softly go about their business,
whispering in the grey night air, walk the grey night air
calm the mind and soul, grey colours levelling all.
Pompous reds and purple, blues and yellow all the same.
Sufficient light to study shapes the round and cosy hedge
trellis arch, its black blooms where tomorrow, red will shine.
None compete, the bee asleep, butterfly with closed wing
Time for rest sleep, grey, on greys
before the sun burns the eastern sky,
destroys these gentle greys to proclaim the gaudy day.