Morning at Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden

Preben Mosborg

from the Fringed Gentian, 1995


Poem

Morning begins
The sky defined
A borderless, edgeless wash
Luminescent as watercolors
From which
We
The earthbound
Are dropped like a stone.

Yet here are the roots
Green sustained
Without a ripple
A garden
Tucked in like a dimple
Extracting reverence
As if temporarily removed
From under glass.

There are no bleachers here
But benches
Benches set at infinity
Like country churches
Dockets of calm
Steeped in essence
Spare and spacious
As an Amish Schoolhouse.

It’s a garden born free
The faintest drone
Of the commerce of sound

Weeds lean against weeds
Encoding
A weed free society
A space not called upon
Its measure its being.

Its truth
Having set seed
When all was ocean.

2016-03