And after the hail and
the midsummer frost,
the garden remembers
how to summer, how to green,
how to leaf and root and bloom,
and everything is so alive,
even this gardener who somehow
does not hear the clock inside
of everything, no, all she hears
is the roar of the river, the
bright chorus of insects,
the seemingly infinite beat
of her own goldening heart.
That’s funny!