I.
Imagine my body less
flawed, less cockeyed.
Let’s call it weathered,
seasoned, marbled
with age, conversant
with the muddling tongue of time.   

II.
Create an imperfect garden.
Allow herb & flower, wind & bark,
moss & mud, a bit of clay & disarray,
a stage for goldfinch & friends to visit,
a winding path to walk, veer to spirit,
a way to soften my heart with plumage &
seedheads, breath—a vessel of focus.   

~ A found poem created from words in Linda Parsons’ poem “Visitation: Necessary”