Wednesday, October 15, 2008

lay the cut rose branches
on the shelf

were you expecting
light work

irrespective of universal causes
there was only a rosebush

with its own drama
growing, blooming, then 
awaiting our cut

as a hand in a glove
can you bear that much

we proceed now to the garden
where carrots tug back
with grudging solicitude

and the feather blue sky
is someone else's crop