Standing in the thick green
of bindweed and cheesewheel
it is easy to dream of a time
when the garden is perfectly
hoed and the peppers hang
red on the stems, the green beans
dangle like long slender earrings
and the ears of corn swell with gold.
Silly dreamer, says Rumi, who
comes in to sit beside the peas.
You are waiting for a miracle
when it is already happening.