M. C. Benner Dixon: Will Pull Weeds for Cash
It was a good summer job for a college kid. A quick drive down Old Plains Road, past the AT&T tower, and pull in at one of the innumerable fieldstone … Continue reading
Barbara Crooker: This Summer Day
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.
Barbara Crooker: Credo
You can till the earth,
hoe the rows, but each seed is an act of belief
that somehow in the dark something
is happening:
Gary Fincke: The Doctrine of Signatures
my mother’s heart
Winding down while I thought of petals
Red and sugared as a lover’s gift
Chard deNiord: April
There is a new quality in the air: a sweet
fragrance from the first flowers—that smell
spring passes under your nose to wake you
again, more than wake you, stir you
Alice Friman: Puddles
As if overnight, the flowering pear tree
is flowering. A froth of white.
James Davis May: Moonflowers
We praise the world by making
others see what we see. So now she points and feels
what must be pride when the bloom unlocks itself
from itself. And then she turns to look at me.
Paul Christensen: We’re all waiting here
I smell the earth for the first time as I take a walk, my first in many months of being housebound.
Wendy Cope: Flowers
Look, the flowers you nearly bought
Have lasted all this while.
