When a storm visits the garden
1/28/24
A short poem
When a storm visits the garden,
The doves are already on their
way out. The storm waves as they go.
The wooden gate yawns
awake. Inside the rusting latch,
the littlest spider greets the visitor.
The storm
doesn’t fear. They listen.
The spider will let the visitor pass
along their way.
The storm grants them the same
courtesy.
The sunflowers bow
their
heads.
The storm glances and
shuffles past.
A stray
pigeon
might stay,
confused at
their plume
that
matches the
sky. The
storm
leaves them
to their own.
The caterpillars curl
deeper into the
bush and can’t
help but tidy
up their silk
for the guest.
The storm couldn’t
possibly stay longer
than one polite drink.
The wrens huddle
under the creaking palm
trees.
The storm wishes them peace.
Scorpions burrow under the
garbage cans.
Soon, the stray bugs
will join them. A short
visit in the sands. The storm wishes them luck.
The saguaros give a deep sigh
And learn as much as they can
reach. The storm wishes
them years with plenty, or
another visit when
those
are
not
enough.
The storm is gone. The garden
only keeps the goodbye.