A Cutting Edge Paradox

Mr. Groen maintained a modest but pleasant yard.
Saturdays in season he cut the grass with a push
mower, pruned roses, fertilized, spread compost.
Martha Groen watered the beds full of crimson
geraniums, purple peonies, tulips, daisies, and
such that fancied her seasonal gardening moods.
But back to back dry nasty winters followed by
suns so hot the weatherman warned of drought,
and the city curtailed yard watering with fines.
Weeds bolted like bad thoughts coming from
nowhere but filling the mind with oil and gas.
Mites appeared, worms, mildews, the antithesis
of a long forgotten paradisaical anthesis.
They still sat out, but they let the yard go.


Summer Notes: 4 – Water

These awkward weedy notes of summer, they steal
water from the subtle artful crafty ones, the ones
crammed with food and hose drenched, and yes,
fruit-bearing they’ll be, and well spent.

The mollycoddle promises a bumper crop this year,
but what will be done with it all?

They can can the coddle, bottle the molly,
boil the gruel for ballet to improve posture,
post this and that here and there without
regard for the rules of a bygone garden.

The cooing of pigeons so quiet,
the stained glass raw golds
color the little nook with amber light.

No words in nature to suffer these weeds,
still birds align in lines that make sense,
the washerwoman counting syllables
come morning the clothes inside out.

And the slug slowing has something to say,
heading under the clinker cool brick.

These appellations June dropped,
in the day squirrels gnaw them,
at night possums come and grab,
and raccoons, and very early
in the morning, just before sunup
now, the coyotes looking for cats up.

Give us the weeds our daily words,
and forgive us our arrears,
for we are hard on hearing,
and we don’t really need
words, anyway.

We might want words, why,
I’m not sure, but we need
water, weeds and all, and you,
you have all the words,
more than you need.

Hummingbird

The Secret GardenAnna’s hum must be a drum
Syllabifying wings she pauses
Asks for a brush of water.

Gusto the loin cat curls
Garnished in the parsley
Paws brown under yellow

Orange marigold sprinkle.
Curling green garlic stalks
Stop hear the red head hum

Oiled garden buzz
Quicken the quiet morn humus
Yeses of soft dry feathers.

Break blossom drift
Brood across rouse salsa
Word warm worm release.