Category Archives: Poetry

The Gardener

All through the fertile spring,
While the weeds proliferated among the tame shrubs
And the once-manicured rosebushes,
She kept other promises.
Now on a hot midsummer noon
She came with spade and spray and gloves and energy
And knelt before the overgrowth.
The bees circled her head and arms
And then returned to their pollen-work
As if she were not a stranger,
So she put down her spade,
Sat back on her heels
And breathing deep the sun-pregnated air,
Became part of the family.

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Too late, too late for weeping or regret,
Too late to set my sail for distant lands,
Too late to kiss the loves I haven’t met–
My liquid days have trickled through my hands.
Too late, too late to shape a future’s plan, Too late to lie adrift and at my ease-­
Tomorrow has a limit to its span;
The future’s lost its possibilities.
Too late, new love I’ve just begun to know,
To ever feel again its sweeet surprise;
Too late to see again that special glow
Of timid expectation in your eyes.
So say goodbye, my last, best love, adieu:
The end is here–today I marry you.

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