s e v e n s
it’s Monday and rabbit goes down the open hole.
Tuesday then, and gopher snake curls into a waiting mouth.
Wednesday it rains. puddles amused, swallow the pouring skies.
Thursday makes witness, slender green shards arise, an alchemy of dirt. earth itself a limb of some greater tree.
my narrow garden spade lurches into softened soil, although Friday whispers, no, we’re not chasing that mole, just finding shallow fruit.
Saturday’s palm aligns with Sunday’s moon, awakens sweet summer sage, landing in all the craddled bowls, earth plowed by our feet.
Sunday says, this trail, this high tide here, it comes for you.
neil reid © december 2012
Ha! Five minutes of initial writing, followed by times five or ten, trying not to make it worse! (Oh, and bad. Did a couple more edits since posting this. No shame.)
Written for the We Write Poems prompt #134, Time counts, really it does…. In your own manner and specific topic, please write a poem that gives witness to the changes of time and season. Read the prompt for more detail if you wish.