Today's poem is by Patrick Donnelly
The tree of heaven in my neighbor's yard
is blocking the light in mine.
Five years ago tomatoes flourished,
sunflowers; now moss
infects flagstone, feral violets
hunch beneath nettle,
turns its face away.
But if the sun doesn't rise, and rain
whips the ferns till they break,
tomorrow will be mushrooms,
beige and round, like the Chinese pills
I began this week.
One can garden the shade,
can kneel at night with a spade
and beg bleeding heart
to shake its wand
of lucky silver teeth.
Copyright © 2003 Patrick Donnelly All rights reserved
from The Charge
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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