A garden, like poetry, is a composition. It is arranged well or badly, but it has notational features. It can rhyme, chime like a Border ballad “They shaped him in fair Janet’s arms, / An esk, but and an adder; . . .” with bold drive and useful language. It can be abstracted, austere, as profound and simple as a haiku: a rock garden in a temple courtyard.
Dawyck is a series of poems. Each is an abundant narrative: of growth, of planter, of season, of hard survival. The whole is arranged into an anthology: the Greek anthos = flower, logia = collection. An anther lecture.
Sometimes a leaf on a mossy step delivers a verb.