As a garden
Outside all you touch, it had to be,
took hold of you, a long expected guest:
you’ve loosened earth to plant in presently,
in soft, prepared earth you lay yourself to rest;
or else you feel the unsupported weight
of fruit upon a branch, as if possessed
through your concern of thoughts of future date,
the tree bears all within its breast:
time became permanence, not flight,
what grows and flowers imagined and dreamt you,
who died on you now mattered not a hoot:
the lawn became your green, the goat your white,
a voice from home: wash hands, come quickly, do,
the blue bowl on the table holds fresh fruit.