Better than any argument is to rise at dawn
and pick dew-wet red berries in a cup.
(Wendell Berry)
Out of step on the march to the garden
I follow your tender prints into loam
to help you cut a bank of pussy
willow and use the trimmings (long
slender sprigs, easily bent) to shape
perfect arches above the climber beans
On days we go to plant or weed or hoe
we are Adam and Eve growing old
in our skins’ topography of furrows
and creases. See the robins on the wire,
spearmint behind the shed where the cat sleeps,
grapevines clambering over the trellis?
Our kisses are lean now, almost skinny;
soon, we know, what grows will grow on its own
Damn, sir.
You are on it today!
Seriously so much I love going on here.
I read, and read, and read this poem. It is as varied and deep as a walk to the garden.
we know, what grows will grow on its own
is awesome
I love “Our kisses are lean now, almost skinny.”
With the Berry quote, you had me from the start and you did not disappoint me whatsoever with Trimming the Pussy Willow.
Our kisses are lean now, almost skinny;
soon, we know, what grows will grow on its own.
Lovely.
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