Bricks of the wall, <br />so much older than the house - <br />taken I think from a farm pulled down <br />when the street was built - <br />narrow bricks of another century. <br /> <br />Modestly, though laid with panels and parapets, <br />a wall behind the flowers - <br />roses and hollyhocks, the silver <br />pods of lupine, sweet-tasting <br />phlox, gray <br />lavender - <br />unnoticed - <br />but I discovered <br />the colors in the wall that woke <br />when spray from the hose <br />played on its pocks and warts - <br /> <br />a hazy red, a <br />grain gold, a mauve <br />of small shadows, sprung <br />from the quiet dry brown - <br />archetype <br />of the world always a step <br />beyond the world, that can't <br />be looked for, only <br />as the eye wanders, <br />found.<br /><br />Denise Levertov<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-garden-wall/
