Things Are Not As They Appear Poem April 6th, 2015

Garden Cleanup



The rosemary died this winter,

its woody stems peeled, stalks

broken, brown needles scattered

underneath moldy oak leaves.


Shovel and pruners in hand,

I alternate between trimming

and removing the herbs––

like tender wind-worn bonsais.


The rabbits chewed the roots,

loosening the grip of the soil

as I dig, and I remember the scent

of fragranced branches on my fingers.


Kim King © 2015


About k2king

Poeming to save myself
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