|A Garden Sonnet
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.
|Home ~ About Us ~ Membership ~ Bookstore ~ Gallery Info ~ Archives ~ Workshops ~ Links ~ Niedecker|
Copyright © 2003-2012, Woodland Pattern Book Center. All rights reserved.