Upon the land where I was a child
poppies and lupine now paint the hills
in a wash of Monet brush color
For my friends still there
overlooking the swells and folds
where scrub oaks emerge from cracked rocks
grey green with lichen
this scene unfolds like the beloved familiar setting of a favorite play
Here in what had been sandy shaded bosque
not too long ago
transformed to neighborhoods
the new oak begins to leaf out
slender catkins following
a companion will be needed if there are to be acorns
unless the stirring winds bring pollens
all the way from the botanical gardens
that always seem so close
but are hardly close enough to form a grove
We can give up half the driveway and plant another nearby
just as my father spaded the driveway at home
turning over the clover he had planted in the arid soil
so he could experiment with plantings from other continents
my favorites were the pair of dogwoods nearest the house
tiny violets spreading beneath them
tendrils of grape vines tangled with themselves in another spot
now that I wander his garden in my mind
I restore the fishpond and rice paper plants replaced with orange trees
jump down the seven stairs to the second lawn
as I did in dreams
preparing to fly
#NAPOWRIMO
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