Anticipating a Day in the Garden

100_1027Today’s poem:

Alone with pale excuses
in a summer-tired garden
taking the measure of lavender,
thyme, the spent seed heads,
stiff gloves clutched loosely
in my off hand, I waver
a heartbeat from my task
while morning proceeds
methodically through threads
of maiden grass, unflagging,
brand-spanking new and brave
after a billion, billion dawns –
what arrogance that I,
this minor microbe, stall at all
as purple shadows shorten
toward a glorious robin sky,
arrogant in light of how
supremely generous
the strong wise strands
binding each to the other,
the lavender, thyme, sun and I

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