(moonlight)

The spring
we moved here
I planted tomatoes
by moonlight,
gifts from a moving
friend that needed
to be resettled
quickly.
They thrived,
grew taller than
the six foot fence.
I worked in the heat
of early summer,
staking and weeding,
zucchini sprawled
across the yard,
I think we got one
before the critters.
I had by then given up
tomatoes and so gave
most of them away.

The next spring
I tried to make
the garden I
always wantedd,
wild with herbs.
The waater brought
every weed I had
pulled back to life.
I brought in
barrels to save
my back.
The next spring
more barrels
for the vegetables
but that didn’t
work.
The following spring
I gave up vegetables
altogether.
And when I moved
I closed the doors
just trying to survive
& stayed inside
all summer
myself.
This spring I
moved the barrels
all around, and planted them
with new herbs.
Tried again in
one small plot
to create my vision.
The real estate agent
said I’d like gardening
here, but I have not.
I have liked it
less than ever.
Half the year it was
too wet to work,
the other half
too hot.
I’ve lost the
fighting spirit,
the love,
the faith
that gardening
asks.

Today at last
summer loosens
its grip,
time to remember
bulbs, but too soon
to plant them.
I start to think
perhaps I can make
my back yard
less despicable
if I put this here
and move that there,
if I spend more time
gardening.

9/4/99