When the wind blows, leaves shake

Where once a tree grew

there is a marsh.

But look over yonder

A garden grows.

'More from the tokes' said the Wind to the Sun one day

Infusing his airs with earthy tobacco rising into mists of blue smoke.

The Sun shone, speaking in tongues 

of sweet rain and green grasslands 

that danced around the hills 

like a girl in a sequined skirt

She, mother Earth, shone like a warrior of strength,

 of grit, of gilded sleet found in mountain folds.

In the cob of the corn

is a delicious flavor that reminds me of the feasts on the day

they made love,

full of the promises made of pregnant clouds and rain bows.

In the pink cheer of a nebulous cat

wandering in my garden of roses,

of evening walks, of birds chirping busily in their nests,

Will it rain? Will the sun and the wind bring her along?

Will it rain in the garden of lovers who, before love fades to dust,

wish St Valentine’s day was reprised in August.

When it rains on the roses

A lone woman stands in the rotunda

She reads rain drops like a child of the divine,

Of love that is blind.

When it rains on the roses

they bloom and dance with her

every year of her life, all the way home.

There it shines a full moon

calling out to those very dreams

she spins in her sleep

claiming treasures of sea and land

on threads of her soft breath

for days she calls her winter.

In the garden, when the wind blows, leaves shake.