She couldn’t sleep, knowing the seeds she planted
yesterday in the greenhouse were starting to
tick-tick in thick black loam— starting to sprout
curly tails that turned their shells inside out— &
those calculating cells divided, unfurling
the blueprint of our garden-soon-to-be
planted without leaving any open spaces— only
pulsating shadows of so many honeybees finding
their afternoon’s work fascinating— and she couldn’t
sleep, knowing another season was revving up—
green and luminous and warm in the scent of
apple blossoms and darkness, and something
out there, tipping over the water can, or stirring
among the bins in the barn, or the mirror of green
eyes— those green eyes, she just couldn’t sleep.
M.J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 33 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.
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