Monday, January 23, 2012

Back From The Garden

Back from the Garden

Out in the garden
bent to the earthworks, last
darkening hour over the herbs
I plant to remember
the driftsweet bouquet
that erases December,
fighting the lunatic wind
tugging skin tight
shaking brain loose at
the top of the tower
so it rattles downstairs to
damp dungeon, where you live
forever lost to reason and me
a fact winter can't seem to forgive.

Now slowthump half gelled steps inside
each limb's weight dragged
stiff, eroded stone cyclops clops
sponge brain following behind
a lost but willing puppy’s tail that
wags as nerve endings rewind
radar puzzles, strategic placements
for curling on bed like a grey-faced dog
on torn but precious rug
round and round, trying
to find that sweet spot where
rest will fall like rain
and system shutdown
snows over pain.

January 2012

Images: Header: Thalia and larkspur gestating
Footer: Hare in January, both © joy ann jones, 2012


  1. "where you live
    forever lost to reason and me
    a fact winter can't seem to forgive."

    That is simply beautiful.

    Enjoy that wind yesterday?

    1. Yeesh! I'd clip off a dead bit of something and it would be rolling down to the next section before I could get it in the garden cart!Spent more time chasing than pruning. Thanks for reading, MZ.

  2. Did you overdo again, dear Witch? What am I gonna do with you? Post a guard with a stop watch in your garden?

    "forever lost to reason and me". I like that. And the "slowthump half gelled steps". Your bunny is tres cool, madame. I wonder, is he late/ For a very important date? :-)

  3. nice...there is something that happens when we put our hands to the earth and creation...a connection...easy to get lost in thought while you are doing it as well...def time for a hot bath and a little r&r

  4. Stanzas one and two are very different creatures every way I try to read them: The first a very linear telling of work in the garden and tolling the bells big winds can disturb. Stanza two's a bit of mystery to me, rewinding the poem's motion, avoiding perhaps the inevitable fall into rue -- like somehow rewiring the heart of a thought (or vice versa), taking comfort for the comfort that is there. Under the dearth, something thrives. - Brendan

    1. So we like to think. Thanks for reading, B. I can't explain this one any more than what's there.

  5. Beautiful, sympathetic poem. I almost think you could end it with rain, though certainly the last two lines have intense impact. K.


"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats

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