Why doesn’t that bed,
Have a patient.
Why pay for nature,
When it wants us dead.

Smell the fresh air,
Enjoy the colours.
Those evolved scents,
Placate places we do not feel.

Build over it,
Put another clinic in.
Where will we go,
To remember ourselves though.

Does not matter,
Clink followed clank.
Automation winnowing expertise,
Life is what we make it.

Strawberry kisses
Love letters in summertime
Are my garden dreams

You always carried me home with your gaze
In your laughter I could float freely with all my fears left to drown in the sea of your reassurances
I slept in my dreams clutching the threads of my tears
So that in my wakefulness,
I can embroider them onto the fabric of a forgotten past
To keep the memory of your name within reach
So that when I whisper it into the sea breeze
Everything once cultivated grows inside of me
And a garden scape of indescribable ease
Is complete with streams of water that run
from your heart to my shaking hands

this same robin
has visited
every day
for the past week
watching
as I work
curiosity
fearlessness
bringing him
closer
and closer
enough for me
to identify
the glowing colour
of his breast
the ruffled feathers
of his crown
and his gentle
inquisitive conversation
as he inspects
the freshly turned soil

i respond
to his chatter
knowing
   not caring
that neither
   understands
      the other;
there is something
in his presence
that outweighs
the need
for answers

Walk in
the garden
of the moon
as a lover,
the flowers of
you becomes
a guest within
the heart,
it does
not ask
of how
you bloom,
but, of how
you became
the home.

A familiar garden.
Irises quietly ponder,
Tulips shyly unfurl,
Daffodils chime with glee.

Each seed buried and broken,
Carving paths and
Gasping for breath.
Sunlight in small doses
And rain in large.
Relentless battles against those who
Grew faster and taller but
Fell much harder.

A moment of flourishing
From a thousand moments of nourishing.
Petals soaking up
The glory of the day and
The tranquility of the night.

And as the season concludes
And the seeds fall once more,
I have faith
That my sacrifice will once more feed
The familiar garden.

Garden roses
my heart is a bunch of thorns,

Sweet white Lillie
my love is of ornamental peace,

Oh my Aster
the brightest star in the dark,

My sweetest Daisy
so affectionate sweetness of your hope,

These tulips are such
a touch of my purple violence,

For blue Iris
is stuck inside of my shadowy eye,

In this paradise,
please my dearest children, keep away
all of those weeds.