The day is fat as an apple.Fulsome with sun, it's a day for a garden.My fingers tingle through their earthskins,though I am still indoors.My anticipating toes dart like mice,greedy for soil and air and light,gluttonous for nematodes.
These are the seedlings I need to bed:fuchsia, impatiens,companula, foxglove,dahlia, phlox,giving them everything as I have given you --what?
Sweet green heads,they are so innocent of autumn.I love you wildlyfrom my green heart,which you say is woody,like a vine,rounding your ankles,twining up.
Give me bone meal.Give me 18-24-12.You've pruned me backlike an overzealous laurel,but I know secrets about fertilizers.
I know roses love garlic.Together we are stronger;together we are two parts,two wholes, and something third,which is creation.
