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| A Garden Sonnet Jack Collom |
for Jenny
A garden sonnet's perfect; it repeats The set, yet varies, air to song and earth To iris, gets itself going, slurring beats Perhaps, but spying mantle, buried mirth The flowers grow; the regular comes to life; The call makes such a mixture that response Can only slice it like a tableknife Might cut a day of butter, nonce by nonce. The neighbor's dog is yelping; Jenny's rake Scritch-scratches on the side; a robin sings; The starlings repro noises 'gainst the lake Of Colorado sky: particular things Begin to mouse-rush in the domestic box. So thought's a gardner, crazy like a fox. |
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