The fate of five hibiscus shrubs
In the desert is in my hands
Each year I have to plant
Another passion vine
If I ever hope to learn
How flowers become butterflies
The three dogs next door
Tell me when the mailman's here
Voices not yet words
Travel over the walls like birds
Leaving the heat behind
I am alone in my bucolic splendor
Snug as the bumble-bee
In his cave in the pomegranate tree
From here I can touch
Every single thing in the world
No comments:
Post a Comment