Oddments

In search of story


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Connections: August 13.17

My family’s in the garden

the past grows ever green

my mom is in the phlox

most surely, though unseen

her dad in the tomatoes

my green-thumbed Grandpa Mauck

son of North Carolina

whose hills rolled in his talk

Grandma O’Hern in moss roses

her summer’s tried-and-true

her son, my dad, in marigold

(the only flower he knew!)

the dill for an unknown

its air a bit of mystery

but I know it figures somewhere

in my leafy family history

I don’t come (as they say) from money

I come more from dirt

so it’s good to feel them back

in horticultural concert.

 

 

 

Connections


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Connections: July 7

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERAYou may recall, dear reader,

I’ve skirmished and I’ve battled

against these long-eared monsters

until I am quite addled.

My back yard smells like garlic

the air of phlox destroyed

yet he can sit and stare at me

as though he’s the one annoyed.

My once pacific spirit

from violence aloof

now sees this toothy glutton

as earmuffs on the hoof.

Connections