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That sprinkler is at it again,
hissing and spitting its arc
of silver, and the parched
lawn is tickled green. The air
hums with the busy traffic
of butterflies and bees,
who navigate without lane
markers, stop signs, directional
signals. One of my friends
says we’re now in the shady
side of the garden, having moved
past pollination, fruition,
and all that bee-buzzed jazz,
into our autumn days. But I say wait.
It’s still summer, and the breeze is full
of sweetness spilled from a million petals;
it wraps around your arms, lifts the hair
from the back of your neck.
The salvia, coreopsis, roses
have set the borders on fire,
and the peaches waiting to be picked
are heavy with juice. We are still ripening
into our bodies, still in the act of becoming.
Rejoice in the day’s long sugar.
Praise that big fat tomato of a sun.

~~~~
Copyright 2024 Barbara Crooker. From Small Rain (Purple Flag Press, 2014)
Barbara Crooker is the author of ten full-length books of poetry, including Some Glad Morning, Pitt Poetry Series, longlisted for the Julie Suk award from Jacar Press, The Book of Kells, which won the Best Poetry Book of 2019 Award from Poetry by the Sea, and Slow Wreckage (Grayson Books, 2024). Her other awards include: Grammy Spoken Word Finalist, the WB Yeats Society of New York Award, and the Thomas Merton Poetry of the Sacred Award.
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Lovely poem– and a good reminder to a geezer like me to quit whining about what I don’t have and start celebrating what I do!
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yes!
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Thank you, Barbara, for reminding us that summer is still here because:
“the breeze is full
of sweetness spilled from a million petals;
it wraps around your arms, lifts the hair
from the back of your neck.” ☀️
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Ahhhhhh. Perfect. Tashi and I took an early ( sort of) morning walk. The ruffled red, yellow, orange, ifvthe other bird of paradise with ferny foliage turn my yard into a fiesta. Add in the blooming palo verde and the scent of jasmine, the little fountain birdbaths, prayer flags and all hope of getting anything done evaporates
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I could see & smell & feel & nod & smile all along the lazy-lovely meandering lines of this poem — delight-filled, and, yes, as Sean said: a gorgeous & inviting “garden of a poem”!
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A very sensual poem…
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Gorgeous. And here am I, in Lima’s winter.
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This is exquisite! “We are still ripening…” — so THAT’s why these soft brown spots are appearing!
But seriously, thank you.
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🤣
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Given I live in the high desert of the southeastern Arizona grasslands, this poem resonates color and fragrances that are a joy. Beautiful poem, reminescent of Mary Oliver’s nature poetry.
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I hadn’t thought of Mary Oliver’s poems, but I see the resemblance now. Thank you!
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“Rejoice in the day’s long sugar.” This poem is a lovely way to begin the day.
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Isn’t it, though?
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A ripe peach of a poem. I love the underlying spirituality at play in Barbara Crooker’s garden. My bergamots are running the show here today, blessing the bumblebees who mine their Earl Grey-scented flowers, carrying part of my disheveled garden back to their summer homes.
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Lovely!
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“A peach of a poem”–I love it! Many thanks!
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And praise Barbara Crooker who’s written the most perfect garden of a poem we will feast upon every waking moment of the day.
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Beautifully said, Sean!
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Thank you so much, Sean! It’s the perfect poem for today!
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