well, the sun.
popies redolent bees
seem to have moved into each petal
full with flavor
smell from the hosta flowers
who knew this fragrance lives in such a leafy
not a farm nor a field
neither a park nor landscaper-tended public space
this is home the place where heart relaxes at best
speeds up often too, at the task of this beauty-
preservation as well as hope
for its future held fast
not always its fate, pulled back from the brink
the heart skips and flutters when realizing all that it takes
to persevere yet I do
trust in this and hold faith for what will outlive me.