Suspended In The Garden
I noticed hand prints
beside the tat on your back,
darker markings on
the smooth lighter planes
I know so well, twenty years
of real touch and go.
I thought I might stray
at that but instead I dig
up tubers looking
for sign that all's well
and at least there is no mold
turning our food black.
The moist mounds of mulch
that once were mature plantings
I leave, signs for you.
April 3, 2014 4:53 PM
Modified to match the image April 7, 2014
In collaboration with Irene's poem Peonies
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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.