Water gathers
on the deck,
the nails which have
wiggled free
from the wood
nearly trip me
as I drag the
hose to the back.
The June sun
gathers force, but
there is a breeze
and shade on the
Adirondack side
of the house.
I wish I could hold
it there,
where I huddle
the cyclamen
and fuchsia,
a different world
from the back deck,
here the world is as
I want it to be,
cool and shady,
safe for delicate
whose generosity
brings double flowers,
an extravagance
of color.