Project 30_02

Why such sleepy-looking
flowers growing in my garden?
In the morning when I come
to give them their breakfast drink
their faces squint with
the partially awakening light.

A wild, early sun has escaped
its track and is leaping through
the maple limbs, rapidly
devouring spotty shadows.

I step out with a hoe and rake.
These vignettes of what
is living in the world make me laugh
as I sprinkle hosed-up water
on the freshly over-turned beds.

Not all seeds are alike.
Some will refuse to come forth.
I tend to those that break down,
cracking open enough to emit
what is most loved: a new,
green life stretching up to
the smooth, warm surface.

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