August

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Loose in hip and mind
I wander in the gardens
a gigantic bee
visiting flower and leaf
seeking the astonishment of fruits
where there were none
even in the dimness
of yesterday’s dusk.

Indoors I settle
to nothing
neither book nor pen
enchants nor sways
nor sings to me now
enough to stay
my repeated wanderings.

There…in the compost
juicy vines bear
umbrellas so bright
so promising of life
as to make the sun
hide her face
in the curling
of tomato vines
of tiny yellow stars
of acid flavored branches
that embrace one another.

No paths remain—
there is danger in stepping
elongated and unbalanced
through the reaches
of sweetpotato and butternut
where mint obscures
neat borders with her spears
of lavender crossing
stilettos of garlic chives.

This is wealth
invisible magic
Earth feeding herself
pretending she needs us
unable to contain
her voluptuousness
her magnificence
her relentless song
of persistence.

She is irresistible
her disordered generosity
reeking of resurrection
as tentacles rise
through the wooden slats
that would contain them
And I can hear her
quiet laughter
in the buzzing of bees
in the chittering
of young cardinals
in my own ridiculous
dialogue with them all.

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About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
This entry was posted in Free verse, Gardening, Gardening, Usually Organic, joy, love, Poetry, Summer, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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