Grow, Green Garden
And now, for the human interest story,
a quarter past breeze and apple-size dust
of blossom, latticed fragments
tendrils, sheathed in birch sleeve
closed door economy,
my new bonfire of vanity,
a cement wall sloping cliff-face
and edge-hedge shed three-facing
attacking west-side with phlegm of
dragonfly and sword of spider
the mirror of an engine and a rotor
and a cap in hand and sweat that swells
the palace pond.
Of an afternoon they are oft
to sit and play and claim a piece
of stem, soil, sweet stawberry
gate of sun and doorway of dusk,
patters of feet they don't know
when to mark night or conquer day.
She embraces them with
circle of earth and neck
and solemn sound.