Day 17 - a poem that includes three words of four syllables or more.
Resurrecting the Irises
or I'm Not Really a Royalist, But ...
Unpicking couch grass seams
in the clearing, I liberate
carpet laid as mulch.
Behold! A miracle!
Pale green white-tipped spears
exposed to light, their life force
indomitable, incontrovertible.
Cramped tubers fight the darkness.
I increase the intensity
pulling at tough threads
imprisoning the bodies
digging gloved fingers
more urgently under
couch grass runners.
This patch of wild garden
becomes a battlefield.
My babies are trapped.
Help me! I exhort -
push, push! But Human
is not their first language.
This is my mission today:
a kind of commando-ism
freeing the iris patch
from its oppressor
letting the light in
allowing the young to grow
strong and long enough
to show off their royal purple robes.
No comments:
Post a Comment