I am sick of sound--

I am sick of sound

     screaming children

     pounding feet

     foolish quarrels.

I would like

to bury my head in a stone

and drink up a thousand silent years.

2/15/00

(I had an older brother who, like most oldest children didn't get along with my parents. Two younger and very noisy brothers and a sister with a voice like a soprano trying to sing over a fire engine. Srsly Anne, you were a shrieker.)

Garden Plans

I would have redbud
Wisteria
Chinaberry
Flowered and scented
No smooth green lawns
No clipped hedges
Everything wild and growing
Iris and roses
Wildflowers
Vegetables – full and good in the sun

(This was actually a list of ideas and things for a future garden. But then I realized it had a nice ring and poked it a little...)

Closets

There are closets in my mind
I’ve locked a lot of things in them.
Old hurts, past dreams
Quite a few people
I’m opening them one by one
I sweep out the skeletons and brush away the dust
They’re empty now
Only the dry stench of bones still clings

(Yes, bones do smell. At least old animal ones do. Trust me on this.)

Wild Garlic

Wild garlic
Crushed
Beneath my feet and fingers.
Summer is here,
Hot sleepy days
Blue sky blazing
I ache with desire for the summer.