Disappearing Paths

Some people might describe this yard as plain: the locust trees and rosemary, all green mother ferns and privet shrubs that grow around the stump where children played; some gnomes my son gifted to me, he thought a joke--- like volunteer plants that want to poke through disappearing paths---(though most I wanted.) There used to… Continue reading Disappearing Paths

Dear Forest, Please Forgive Me

The day I knew I’d fallen out of love, immune to fascination of your spell, I wasn’t rocking with the wind above, intoxicated drinking in the smell   of forest pine. And deep underfoot, little craving for the virgin pillow of needles; and around my ankles, dirt … and by the stream, only silent willows.… Continue reading Dear Forest, Please Forgive Me

Villanelle for a Gardener

(After “Villanelle for an Anniversary,” by Seamus Heaney)   A spirit moved. The gardener walked the yard. The mountain had been carved, the boulders massed. His shovel rusted, and the ground lay hard.   Streams sighed in secret. Nothing stirred. Bamboo stood in silence, guarding past. A spirit moved, the gardener walked the yard.  … Continue reading Villanelle for a Gardener

Petal by Golden Petal

In the breeze of a new spring dawn, a petal falls from the cassia tree— freed from its flower, gold as the sun, its moment arrived, its bondage done— it drifts in silence, soft and free.   Nature reckons with numbers and sums, while I stand still in the gentle breeze: the phoebes arrived, the… Continue reading Petal by Golden Petal

Ode to My Forgotten Garden

Many months’ weather and weekends have passed; winter is gone, and I’ve not climbed your stairs with my shovel and gloves—you’ve not seen my face, so buried I’ve been in a canyon of cares.   With winter came the winds of regret— for those I wear new wrinkles within. I’ve mourned the untimely loss of… Continue reading Ode to My Forgotten Garden