TRANSFORMATION Sitting in the garden Trying to be the garden, Absorbing the sun Reflected from red brick walls, While pale green lettuce plants Send cool moistness To dry, overheated eyes, And the scent of thyme Tingles, tickles the nose. A white, hollow snail-shell, Upended, rocks in the breeze Caused by a fierce sparrow Burrowing in a dust-bath. The garden gate's paint, Faded blue, is cracked And peeled in patterned angles, Seeming somehow important With their small black shadows. The hot, heavy, scented air Slows thought and breaths, Making being an effort -- It's much easier to doze. . .
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|Date:||Jun 1, 1992|
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