VANITY

Chaos lingers in our garden...  

rocks in slopes of bare earth,

uninvited seedlings of that hardhearted Locust

on the fringe; an encroachment of idiot Honeysuckle

reaches devious tendrils in every direction, and a

proliferation of weeds.

A White Oak on the edge once kissed the lightening

and bears long scars down one side,

a testimony to wanton passion.

I planted a willow by the pond ten years ago;

it cried its last tear in that late frost last spring,

a karma of hubris.

The almost hollow Cherry drops fruit in the dust

and pulses slow gobbets of sap from

the edges of its wounds.

We spend evenings out there in the white lawn chairs

sipping bourbon and whisper amidst a cacophony

of lusty frogs croaking frantic desire.

The Roses have littered dry petals at their roots,

the Irises came and went, and the Lilies are

thin this year.

The thing that haunts me, though,

is the Scarlet Tanager,

red as Eve’s apple, that came down

from the canopy one day

for some Blackberries

to punctuate our futility.

Reviews

[ETERNITY]

Thank you, Poet, for giving us a peek into your Garden of Paradise, the evenings spent sipping bourbon in lawn chairs...I can see nothing more happy than that,,,,,,so ... I'm glad.

It's really a well told image casing work, so like you eloquent Poet.

[Vol]

That was from before Kimberly died... such a gardener, she was!
Vol

[Red Brick Keshner]

And the “V” series continues solidly! You go, vol with great volume🙏🏻🕊️