My favorite summer project: the packet of cosmos seeds;
Demeter’s yield from last summer
Rattles softly in the paper, in my shirtpocket.
I walk across the dry grass,
Four curious feet scampering behind me.
One tears open the packet and shakes the seeds
They cascade like rain into the other’s hand.
Quickly, we get to work.
One seed, every few inches, seems scant. We plant two,
sprinkle with water,
and summer flies on by.
No rain, only sun.
We water together,
sometimes alone at dusk,
as baby owls talk over us
up in the pine tree bough
and the crickets start trilling.
One day in July, they pop atop tall green plumes
punctuating the feathery foliage: a blitz of purples, pinks and white.
The nasturtiums cower in awe, shouting loud under-shadow
But they can’t compete, only enhance the stature
of the tiny pack of seeds
that exploded by some miracle into our summer landscape
and framed our reference within the course of this year.
