a midsummer garden
“for you to see beauty here
does not mean
there is beauty in me
it means there is beauty rooted
so deep within you
you can’t help but
see it everywhere”
Tomatoes are ripening on the vine, the zinnias dot their patch of earth. The queen anne’s lace sways in a morning breeze, tall and strong and yet still delicate. The rainy spring has encouraged weeds to sneak up through the celosia. Little saplings take root along the garden’s edge. Prolific are the wild onions and mushroom caps. A rabbit’s nest discovered among the tulip bulbs.
The rambling rose is nearing its close. Now is the time for yarrow and dill and bee balm and anise hyssop. Under a shade tree, the white astilbe shines. The bumblebees buzz around me as I harvest lavender. The echinaceas sprout and bud and bloom. When will the seeds sown months ago grow? The sun sets on the cosmos, their heads turned toward the light.