Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on unsplash
Garden
The laws of gravity
gnaw at the order,
as the borders of
the garden welcome
torrents of rain
with the same
faces they upturn
to the sun. The yellow
daffodils let spill
all they can't contain.
The grass stained
in the house's shadow,
wondering at the orbiting
moon that tunes
the oceans. How full
the dance card, how hard
the yard cranes
its stem to glimpse
light, how right
the pull on the petals
that tilt in the wind's
push, brushing over
until the fragrance
has become its
own gravity.
