The Gaul

The Gaul

Tall and lean, poised for war,
Scars and tattoos clothe him.
Hair caught in a topknot,
Armed with rake, hoe and shears
Quiet, fierce and focused
He tends the garden.

He studies the land
Watching, evaluating, and planning.
His foe: chaos, aphids, parasites
And unseen causes of blights.
He moves in and invades,
Eyes on a vision of paradise.

Ruthless, he cuts and slashes.
In sure and fluid motions,
He shapes and coaxes,
Restores order and discipline
Among oleanders, roses,
Rosemary and spruce.

At the end of the day
He surveys the carnage,
Then gathers the fallen
And stands in the heady scent
Of sap and summer’s last blooms,
A warrior in Avalon.

Note: Before there was France, there was Gaul. Julius Cesar conquered the land and brought the Gauls to their knees. None the less, he praised Gaul warriors for their courage and fierceness. Something about the gardener reminded me of his ancestry and I tried to capture that.

About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
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7 Responses to The Gaul

  1. makagutu says:

    Beautiful prose!

    Like

  2. themodernidiot says:

    Shear delight 😉

    Like

  3. Pingback: Conversation | unbuttoned or undone

  4. alarmingman says:

    Somehow in a light-hearted way you have touched something deep for me here – for some reason I too always associate the Celtic and Gaulish legacy with nature… and I love slashing weeds when I get the chance 🙂

    Like

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