I resist the news cycle
droning from the living room
take a book of Rilke to the patio
along with bug spray
to murder mosquitos.
The overgrown yard
cushions my bare feet
as I prune the tomatoes,
pat their leaves, tie them
to the stake.  I breathe,
sit under the umbrella,
meditate until dusk,
don’t reach for the hoe
when the chipmunk darts
under the table.  His claws
skim over my feet.