Wild now with growth from winter’s rain
the back of the garden catches me
with tendrils of this and that
and abundant flying things do buzz and reply
to the fragrant jasmine and fruit trees nearby
There are two paths now through the jungle
one way to the pond
the other to the shed
I go through open door of air to a chair
with open book seated and unread
I shed my color and loosen the draft to air
to see myself with kind eyes but still find disrepair
Blooming and tall in need of nip-tuck and direction
no hedge I keep I am this wild way beguiled
the path I take is like a child in pony’s trot
within the room of me I open all the windows
there unlocked within a song set free
that has found its way by light of shadow into me
past the monsters hiding in the copse it strums
into the opening glen to find each minute just begun
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