The Garden
After the
rain lettuce says
thank you
and grows another
quarter inch
before dark.
Radishes
move the dirt
a hair, expand
crisp roots
ready for
picking next day.
Weeds run
riot. They think
this land
is theirs to do
whatever
they want, and they
are right
for three days,
until the
gardener’s fingers
find them
out: “Sorry,
not this time,
not this row.
Farewell,
I hope, until next year.”
—Donnell
Hunter
28
May 2012
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