Unknown Gardens


Summer shadows flutter, golden light filters

Through lovely shades of crimson crab apple –

the magenta blooms have long since faded

and dropped to the ground,  fallen among

the rocky hedge and tanning mulch–

Disappeared to become one with the land


She isn’t there anymore, but I can still

taste the goodness of sitting underneath

the shade of dusk, evenings on the porch,

she on the yellow rocking chair, me on the

front stoop, listening to the mourning doves

and crickets in the background of our summer play


A soul flits by as common as a bee on a flower–

Lighting for a moment, then drifting away to

unknown gardens, bringing back the scent of

something distant, something foreign,

not familiar like the scent of a rose, pungent

when crushed by unknown pedestrians walking

forward, engaged in conversation, oblivious

to the world below–

They do not notice petals

Stuck to their shoes


I dreamt of a garden once,

Unknown and distant, with

Bright colors and promises of no feet

And sweet fragrance and hummingbirds–

But as I got closer, it was a mirage

Created by my own words and

Wrecks of previous scripts, tossed

But not apparently forgotten–

I did not know what my mind could create–

An unknown field, overgrown, unkempt

Needing care, cultivation–



Until that bee came by and spoke

In my ear, directed me to the place

It came from, or else I’d still be digging out

Of the ruts of past wheels

Instead of following the tiniest of these

To an unknown garden.