Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet in Wonderland to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
Beyond the hills of heather, where the mountain paths run steep,
There's a garden that a giant tends, where the sunflowers are the size of towers in a cloud-capped keep.
The giant's very gentle, and he waters every root,
With a watering can the size of a barn, and a hum that's like a flute.
He grows a pumpkin like a house, and a cabbage like a boat,
And the mice come by to nibble it, and cross it as a float.
Once a traveller came by, and he cried out in fright,
But the giant only smiled and said, my friend, come in tonight.
They shared a giant supper of sweet corn and turnip stew,
And the traveller learned that gentleness can come in giants too.
So never judge by size or by a rumbling, thunderous name,
For the tenderest of gardeners may be the biggest all the same.
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Commentary
A giant’s garden is huge, and so is his kindness. The poem turns a frightening figure into a gentle host and teaches a traveller not to judge by size.
“Beyond the hills of heather, where the mountain paths run steep,” “there’s a garden that a giant tends.” The giant is “very gentle” and waters “every root” with “a watering can the size of a barn.” He grows “a pumpkin like a house, and a cabbage like a boat,” where mice come to nibble.
A traveller “cried out in fright,” but the giant smiled and said, “come in tonight.” They share “a giant supper of sweet corn and turnip stew,” and the traveller learns “that gentleness can come in giants too.” The poem ends: “never judge by size.”