I praise the morning sun,
as I work between the rows,
and cut and tie and lift
my friends in growing throes.
I feel the noonday heat,
as through the rows I walk
visiting each friend of mine
in leaf and bloom and stalk.
Soon my leaves will fade
as my sap no longer flows,
and I'll join my garden friends
within some fresh new row.
So will you plant my seeds,
and water when it's dry,
and pull away the weeds,
and love me when I lie?
Scar
The scar upon my face
looks deep
and red today.
So white
at other times,
it seems older
than I say.
The scar reflects
its birth
and it will
not disappear.
Though it tweaks
my soul
with memory's fear,
it is a binder
of more
than flesh.
Key West Snow
Up again at 1 AM,
I send a fleeting glance
to our white-rock yard.
For a fractious moment,
the yard is covered
with pale gray-blue snow.
A stark-white full moon
has played a trick on me.
But in that instant,
cold images reappear
of a once northern life.
A shiver rolls off my back -
as I shake the frozen past.
In memory's next flicker,
I am in a cold Paris flat
looking out of a window
into seductive claire de lune,
dazzling, shining bright
on short-lived scenes,
but none as fleeting
as Key West snow.
Author's note: Key West does not have frost or snow.
Seasonally, though, it has thousands of snow birds.
