Sweet Rocket, the Flower

Communing with a swallowtail this morning.

My Gardening Pantoum

What We Have Sown

All those invasive plants
we didn’t think of as terrible,
just beautiful and strong,
seeded in the flower beds.

We didn’t think of it as terribly
pesky, the sweet rocket I started,
seeded in the flower beds
25 years ago. It’s everywhere now.

Pesky, the sweet rocket I started,
and the comfrey—such a benign name—
25 years ago. It’s everywhere now,
still reproducing, even the clumps I dig up.

Yes, the comfrey—such a benign name—
exceeding its bounds in the garden,
still reproduces, even the clumps I dig up
and toss across the road, to take root.

Exceeding its bounds in the garden,
forget-me-not dots the yard with blue,
tossing seeds across the road, to take root,
growing rings around the sweet rocket.

Forget-me-not dots the yard with blue:
my daughter’s gentle admonition
growing rings around the sweet rocket,
whispering, Don’t forget.

My daughter’s gentle admonition
not to forget my love of gardening
whispers, Don’t forget
But how will I be remembered?

I won’t forget my love of gardening,
so beautiful and strong,
but will I be remembered for
all those invasive plants?

Poem

Onlies
for Joe

I sat in my car this afternoon, eating
popcorn with gasoline-scented fingers
(I had just topped off the lawnmower)
and reading Marie Howe when I put down
the book and thought about you.
Because you used to say things like,
We must be the only people in the county
listening to Mahler’s 8th tonight, or
I’ll bet we’re the only people in the county
who ate scrambled tofu for breakfast, or
…who made their own tempeh this week.
And as I sat there, tinted glass shading
my eyes from the late sun, tiny flies trying
furiously to find a way around the window,
I was sure I was the only person in the county,
maybe even all of Pennsylvania and beyond,
sitting in a car at that moment, eating
popcorn with gasoline-scented fingers,
reading Marie Howe, and wondering
if you knew.

Lizzie & Me

Hard to believe she's a natural blonde, isn't it?

Poem for my granddaughter

Pantoum for Lizzie

I’ll remember (will you?)
our “ladies lunches,”
neither of us ladylike,
you 16, me….not.

Our “ladies lunches:”
your vegetarian choices,
you 16, me….not
but we notice the same things.

Your vegetarian choices—
I appreciate them, like the way
we notice the same things,
little ones and big ones.

I appreciate the way
you care about serious issues,
little ones and big ones.
Prom dresses and the Holocaust.

You care about serious issues
alternating with the hilarious.
Prom dresses and the Holocaust
give way to mutual glee.

Alternating with the hilarious,
those spiritual discussions
give way to mutual glee
with the one whose laughter I love.

Those spiritual discussions,
neither of us ladylike,
with the one whose laughter I love
I’ll remember (will you?)