Monday, April 16, 2007

fine weather voices, blooms, water

An exchange of voices in Mount Sion drifts through the hedge to where I sit in our little garden on this warm and peaceful day: " ...Fine. You alright? Beautiful!"

Suddenly, their scent,
Heavy blooms; their sharp shadows
On the white-washed wall.

Water sprays out and drums where it falls from the rose of my watering can.

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