Majestic Paradox
NOW IS FOR PLANTING THE FIELDS
Floral lines do not come to me
these days are notes – quips on the fly
not a hand – a young love
you trembled to find me open
spread for your unbridled dibble
Row by row you planted
the order by your choice
hell – even the time was yours
somnambulism became me
patient as the farmer’s field
Our garden delighted at first
the shrubs grown tall for shelter
no one could find us embedded
our garden shifted to labyrinth
and I woke
To quick turns and quicker straightaways
our stroll had turned to footrace
blurred in the flurries of future
each eyeing each in the mindview mirror
caught at the start/finish line
Clutching our packets I am equal
to our committed task of choice
with wildflower mix in hand
now is for planting the fields
to hell with the order and timing
We will not need labyrinthine pathways
to define the natural order
of our garden intuited chaos
floral lines will never express
this trembling we have for each other