Madonna of the Garden

The white Madonna leans against the wall

Watching the seams between the bricks.

Half covered by weeds and mossy lichens

She turns her back against the fog-weak sun.

All in ceramic white

Forgotten and pitted with dark holes

Her curvature lending elegance to weeds,

She faces a hoar-frost huddled in a corner.

Her back protects her from an agonised

Coalescing with the frozen earth

Bereft of child but with

The light of children shining in her eyes.

Running laughter on the summer lawn

A longing for the unknown

But longing for it to be known

The mystery of life.

Guarded guardian

Mother of God

Waiting through the winter

Protecting herself to anticipate

Spring ripeness and impregnation

Birth, milk and breast.

Madonna to come

Among the frozen bricks

Surrounded by a rime of frost,

Pray for us.

“Now, and at the hour of our birth.”