The Mushroom House
Opening the rugged door
half hidden by hedera
I peer inside, shivering
in the eerie dusk.
A brick wall bows over
wooden segments of fertile soil,
biding time for fungi growth.
half hidden by hedera
I peer inside, shivering
in the eerie dusk.
A brick wall bows over
wooden segments of fertile soil,
biding time for fungi growth.
The door firmly shut, we scuff
back along the bosky path
canopied in laurel,
watching out for rats
in The Old Man's Beard.
back along the bosky path
canopied in laurel,
watching out for rats
in The Old Man's Beard.
Standing in the parterre's
profusion of shades
I peer up at Hanbury Hall's
windows and time travel back.
profusion of shades
I peer up at Hanbury Hall's
windows and time travel back.
The gardener picks buttons
in the dark place
for the cook below stairs.
She chops them with shallots
from the walled garden,
creating a sauce to smother
tonight's chicken.
in the dark place
for the cook below stairs.
She chops them with shallots
from the walled garden,
creating a sauce to smother
tonight's chicken.
At midnight Emma Vernon
wanders through the gardens,
glides upstairs beneath
the ceiling of assembled deities.
wanders through the gardens,
glides upstairs beneath
the ceiling of assembled deities.
Biononte
Eira Needham is a retired teacher, living in Birmingham UK. Her poetry is eclectic and has been published in print and online. Recent and forthcoming publications are in The Miller's Pond Poetry Magazine, Voices From The Web 2015, Foliate Oak Literary Magazine and The Green silk Journal. She has also been Featured Writer in West Ward Quarterly.
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