foxgloves
the rain-heavy earth smells of foxes and the foxgloves are high, they reach up toward the light, elegant, taut purple sheaths, rising, grasping at air, making their way into open, nettles all around getting to them, taking over, enveloping green stingers like so many harrid unwelcomes, crying out, this urgent voyage of flower, making a display of it, outreaching the tree breath, coppery rain, the metallic taste of hours of showers, the mud so thick and rising, roots heeled in, the violet healing flowers emerge again, seeping green, weeping woods, showers upon showers, listless seeds, rampant growth, the shady makers.nettles voyage, an urgent shower of display, the garden will sting, it will weep, listless, around itself in the seeping cry of purple foxes, getting nowhere the smell lights metallic roots, taking so thick flowers to the breath of high grasping, weeping trees, this voyage makes the earth into shady rain.
posted by Cathy @ 10:23 AM
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