Sunday, May 9, 2010


There we sat in the full blaze
sun of late July
on my father's deck looking out
beyond the little koi pond
where large fish sparkled
beyond the waterfall
created to spill into the pond
beyond each bud and flower in full blossom
beyond the carefully lovingly created
Eden of my father's making
born in the dreams of a Brooklyn windowsill
filled with tiny pots
now to the far end of the acre's reach
to the stand of glorious tumbling gloxiana
“Listen” said he because
I will not be here next year to tell you how to keep them

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