Somewhere amid the vegetables,
a bloom, a flower begging notice,
suggesting we might see beyond
ourselves, our guilt and fears,
and all the calamities teetering
on this planet, for a moment.
A beacon for the eyes, a course
to follow on choppy seas,
a remnant burst of energy
blazing bravely at the sun’s
112 degrees. Bless the gardeners
planting seed we cannot eat!
drycrikjournal 