longing

 

from this week in August, 1987 (I was 42)

 

longing

for the quiet magnitude

of the original garden

before the first taste

of addictive want

that desire to possess

every fancy

 

for the quiet magnitude

of the original garden

with its solemn expression

of subtle magnificence

to fulfill every moment

aware

 

for the quiet magnitude

of the original garden

where no hand had turned

what the mind had twisted

with hissing whisper

to muscle

 

longing for the quiet

magnitude

of the original garden

but weeding something else

the while hoeing and pruning

to a noisy minority

watering evaporation