Click Page 29

Poetry of Issue #8        Page 29


"What we are capable of
is not yet known,
and I praise us now,
in advance."
~ Dorianne Laux

Last fall I planted papery teardrop bulbs,
forgot they slept under mulched earth.
Orange and red snapdragons, blue ageratum,
quickly covered them over.

In spring, Peruvian lilies rocket toward light,
firework clusters of tiger striped blossoms.
Backyard planters incubate bearded iris,
inky jowls streaked gold, peach and purple.

Mornings, I strip away thistle and spurge, deadhead fading roses,
admire fairytale stalks of pink and white foxgloves.
Primed by the simple routine of establishing order,
I scribble embryo poems at my desk.

Letting words rest overnight, I allow them to breathe,
reveal their subtext, disclose hidden secrets.
In the garden, concealed daffodils resurrect,
push through nasturtiums, unfold yellow trumpets.

  Jennifer Lagier