Today I prepared the last
unplanted place I garden
for my last spring planting.
A gift for commuters who 
slow to look out the window,
for trash collectors, letter
carriers, dog walkers and dogs
alike, whether they like it
or not, and for huddles 
of bumble bees who make
their approval obvious
well into the fall.

On the narrow strip
between sidewalk and curb
a stand of unruly blood-red
Cock’s Comb competing
like eighteenth-century
aristocrats for the most
outlandish plumage.