Jul/Aug 2004 • Poetry |
January's Resolution
I wake with a start,
the horizon ablaze.
Outside, sixty degrees:sky, an elusive gold.
I brush through brambles,
remember summer'sprickles, the relief
from rubbing berry
leaves into wounds.The yard fills
with imaginary weeds:
Lamb's quarters.Pokeberries, wild onion.
Through a raised window,
a kettle whistles.Tea's remedy:
violets steeping
on the stove.I can't ask for more:
soil energizing
roots of clover,goldenrod—
all that green and gold
preparing to returnas wayward growth:
unbridled as last June's
stars feastingon a sickle moon,
dandelion fields
and me.