Friday, July 19, 2019

water tale 3

"My mind used to go off wandering whenever it felt like it..."


Before six
this summer morning,
I look down
into a
garden of
oxeyes,
daylilies,
creeping bellflower,
Queen Anne's lace
with central purple floret.
This last, Daucus carota,
a refugee,
should not be confused with
native hemlock,
a wildly poisonous
lookalike.

Bindweed, hops,
and wild grape
tent
rabbit warrens which
exist under
lamium and gout weed.
Celandine and nettle flourish
near ripening mulberries.
Beside these,
plum trees have been weather stunned,
and remain barren,
though sumac's thriving in the heat.
The garden's circumference is neat,
colored blue, white and yellow.
Here at the edge a chicory hedge,
while sentries yarrow and tansy
let in ladybugs, are spider's allies.

Underground, nematodes
near the house, rain doused, eat
as songbirds who
flew here feed
on millet seed,
near thistles, 4 varieties.

While I seek
adlumia, the Allegheny vine,
white star grass and
wild leek,
asters lie close to the ground, a
patient perennial, waiting.

Such plants hiding,
biding time
may be seen again
in fall.
Yet this garden's season
excludes few
in color, origin,
and
renews hope that each year
it will reappear,
an abundance
complete,
perhaps reticulate,
a wish that exists,
at least now,
in the midst
of summer.