it's late summer in early september.
i'm sitting at my computer looking
out the windows at my garden.
i see zinnias, clematis, sunflowers and asters;
a cacophony of color on color.
i see butterfly bush, coneflowers, morning glories
and mint. blues and pinks etched in black.
suddenly i go over to the radio
and turn off garrison keillor’s ‘companion.’
i reach down and turn off the fan,
heck, I even turn off the tv.
i want to hear the goldfinches sing -
i want to watch the garden grow -
i want to feel the flutter of butterfly wings
tickling the breeze that tickles me -
not for one minute thinking
of shrinking aquifers, or toxic waste,
or land-mines more prolific than compassion,
or litter in the streets where wild turkeys roam.