Sonnet Sunday

C E Chaffin has inaugurated something called Sonnet Sunday and invites all bloggers to post a sonnet to their blogs each Sunday.

I’ve managed one this time (30 minutes) and will try to make it a regular discipline. Any other sonneteers out there want to join in?

Gardener

He claimed to be my gardener. When I turned
my back, he lay down on the lawn and talked
to weeds. He kissed their stems. If you feel shocked
by such behaviour, me too, and I warned
him to be normal, or be sacked. He spurned
advice and when some crusty woman picked
him up and dragged him to her dodgy sect
for weed-huggers, no lesson had been learned.

My wife protested – he was practical,
he understood each plant, each blade of grass,
not just in words of theoretical
import, but in the sacred interface
of vulnerable love; my sceptical
expression only masked my cowardice.