her face is a red
bee(t)
her eyes are sky-
lights
holding summer
with her hands -
reds, violets, pinks & yellow sun-
flowers
common & breezy, plucked
from the garden
not peonies-caped in neat rows
not blue ivy tended by gloved gardeners
nor rose-potted in wooden plant boxes
but from open field
along walking & biking trails
\\where seeds, grape leaves & herbs spring
escaping from botanical gardens//
i
bade her a {goodmorning} smile
&
drink in
her calmness
her happy strides
her weighlessness of cares
& walk towards
where she came from
there's plenty still
to gather the wheatgrass & knot
wildflowers draping the field
with worts, weeds & bugs
perfusing perfume:
sunshine from birdsongs
& musk perfectly mulched from wasps
a harvest by creekside, until the sun
sweats
gold on
my arms
Posted for the dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics: Garden(ing) with Claudia Schoenfeld as our special host in celebration of the 10th year anniversary of dVerse! Come join us for a gardening treat at 3pm EST.
