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In Gardens

In gardens we fall

in love with what grows:

heirloom harvests of Brandywines and Ox Hearts,

Mortgage Lifters and Big Rainbows,

as if love itself were a green

tomato ripening on the windowsill

of its own momentum,

like dumb luck and not

 

what brings us to our knees

in rich soil, so that what we lift

from the vine and take inside us

 

is not only sweet firmness

but back ache and blemish, not just

fine juices but the threat of early frost.

 

Through thistle and sunlight,

blight year and bounty,

we carry on—this work

of life, this cultivating and caring,

 
putting up glass quarts of ripe Hearts

that will bear us through December

drifts and longest nights

like a dreamsong of summer.

 

It will feed us season after season

after ever-fruiting season—

this attention to what grows, this

dedication, this harvest, this labor of love.





Posted 08/30/16
for Mark and Helen
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