The breakfast bar is open
Starbucks can’t compare
the truest farm-to-table
chive juice en plein air.
Monthly Archives: May 2016
Connections: May 30
I have a gardener friend
who messes me up no end
she jumbles my cranium
with pelargonium/geranium
and sends me ’round the bend.
Connections: May 29
My mother was smart and pretty
and had an amazing green thumb
but in discourse she lacked patience,
going quickly to “That’s just dumb!”
Now we’re besmirched by campaign
(deliver us from such another!)
and I hear myself too often
quoting my prescient mother.
Connections: May 28
Truer words were never spoke
and they need to be often rehearsed.
As lifelong certifiable poke
I’m unzealous for front or first.
Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Connections: May 27
This babe can barely fly
his psychotic ma nearby
she screeches at me
one-bird Stravinsky
as he scowls with haughty eye.
It would seem he feels abused
but I think he’s just confused
with the grass as berm
he whines “Where’s my worm?”
his ma is not amused.
Connections: May 26
Connections: May 25
A gardener’s life is muddied
with setbacks and travails
calloused knees and splinters
blackened fingernails
but then there is the heart-stop
electric, luminous
when something perfect happens
golden, numinous.
Connections: May 24
What is this woodland sprite
that’s come to live with me?
Did it hitchhike on the mulch?
How did it come to be?
It surprised my eye one morning
this stark and starry white
set in birch-bound jewelbox
six-petaled margarite.
Connections: May 23
Connections: May 22
Whispering in front of others
is habit most pernicious
so why are these garden gossips
in confab surreptitious?
I know they’re talking about me
this cliquish sly duet
what want of proper manners
in dainty tete-a-tete.
Oddments 