Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Too Much Time in the Garden

Too Much Time in the Garden

Beauty comes from loving
the thing you stand before,

staring, and knowing you
can’t have it for good, or

it can’t remain. That’s it,
petals in the trees for one

week, ten days, and then,
the all-engulfing green.

Your souvenir of beauty:
longing, the feeling you

can extend the day by
rolling it thinner, stretching

the pizza dough carefully.
The shape of memory is

hollow and fragile, glass
dome, snow globe shell,

mason jar. Tell yourself
you will return for more

later, go on, each jar of sand
burying you up to the chin.


  1. So much truth in this poem. I'm especially taken with the opening and concluding couplets.

  2. So beautiful....I long to see the flowers most of the time...


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