People communicate too much.
Their arms, their feet, their eyes, their hands.
Each one tells a story.
Each one differs, interfering and weighing the air down.
Then the mouth opens and words fly out,
A whirlwind of ideas, opinions, tumbling, spinning, whipping out.
So much noise.
A message here, a message there.
The noise is blinding.

Outside the garden is buzzing.
Not the droning buzz of conversation,
But the peaceful hum and sigh of nature.
The leaves wave as you walk.
Flower petals whisper to you, succinct words that don't rattle.
Ladybirds, bumblebees, humming birds hurtle and whisk around,
And best of all, the garden listens.

I will not love for fear of losing,
And if a fondness should creep through,
Like ivy I’ll cut it back.

my mother taught me how to work the dirt,
grub it between palms, savor the smells of chickenshit, and
raw flesh. she knows that crops are grown fifty-fifty,

a little coddling, a little resentment. look at the thing
crawling out of your leaking womb, purpled with lacking.
she taught me how to heal, let my body mend itself with

time. when i was born, the salt of my mother clouded around my
eyes. they broke me to let me live, and so forth. but i have never
stopped with the needing. i became a **** in the dirt i worked.

empty, glad with unwanting. i wanted to spread my branches and show my mother the world she forgot. i remember. i remember.
but my chants fell upon deaf ears. my prose too purpled to read.

if you can bring nothing to this dirt
but another dead body,
this is not a garden for you.

if I could propagate
begonias
bright burgundies
would    F
        I
                            L
   ­­                L              my pages
if I could seed my sages
savor flavor
in my soils’ *****

baby read my mind
out LOUD
s
  l
        i
                    p them off your
                                          lip

quick tip:
a 3” snip and d  them in d
                         i                   r
                         p               i
                                             p
                                           s
line them
in white powder
beg them to           f
                       L      O      W    
                           e        r

cake is fake so take
your time to
dnuinw

the kids will be just fine

s                               e
    m                      l
                  i
you’re
       ­                                           a
                    ­                              l
                                 ­                 l
                                              ­    r
                                                  i
       ­                                           g
                    ­                              h
                                 ­                 t

i’m lost my (chain) of thought
cost too much i bought
cheap seeds
their screaming bleeds
bright burgundy
in my bed

i said
Indigo Snow come home
to set (me) free
lay me          to sleep



           down



                             W,I
                           delet

I want to write a poem now
but really I'm too busy
I've got to get some gardening done and it's got me in a tizzy

chores and chores I hafta do
dishes, cooking cleaning
I need to focus focus
an somehow keep the meaning

keep the meaning of life in mind
trust in something better
maybe take a break to write
a long an poignant letter

but for now that dirt is callin,
a place to pull some ****,
***** knees and ***** hands
are really all I ever need

I will write again of worms an robins
an a glorious Vermont June
the month my sweet birthday comes
with my crescent waxing moon

another year just passes by
full of pain and full of bliss
I just raise a hand an I sigh,
cuz there's nothing
I would wanna miss

I just try to be ever grateful
for each day is a chance
to do it better
than I did the day before.

Ma Cherie ©2017

War in the air
Love in the soil
The patience of water
The seeds of hope
And an understanding sun
The gardener knows well that
Peace grows slowly
But is flowers smell wonderful
Fruits so tasty
Determination...
To feed the children with juicy fruits...

"Make the air fresh again!"