In the Garden of a Mind
I pluck petals off the flowers
of my imagination
I lay them down and press them
between the pages
of my heart
my garden of words
is well tended
with inspiration
flourishing
with the bloom
of each beauteous verse
each effortless line
I plant a word in
paper-earth
and fold the soil
in the sacrament
of giving
I pour water
replenishing Gaea
watching it steep
to life
I burn compost
its leaves of paper-guilt
curling up to nothing
renewed again
in a feather of ash
hanging a wind-chime of words
in a chorus of dawn eddies,
my poetry sings, alive
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