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Age is Heavy on the Ground
Age is heavy on the ground
alongside the pansies and begonia
the fuchsia and snapdragons
the tulips, the pomegranates
just beginning to swell
the pomelo now into its second month
fragrant; trowel and fork
watering can sprinkling, she stoops
Age is heavy on the ground
between the roses and the bougainvillea
in loose balloon-cloth-yellow shorts
down to her knees she bends
pulls at a weed, age is broad and heavy
her red tee shirt flaps pendulous as the wind
Yesterday’s windfalls are on the ground
she gathers peaches, ripe and rescued
from ants and birds, soon she will wash
cut up, make some jam, tonight the grandchildren
will be coming, there will be chicken
honeyed, crisp and herbed, potatoes from
the garden sprinkled with parsley
grape juice with a splash of club soda
bread rolls from her own grandmother’s recipe
But first there are some poems to be typed
the ones about the sounds at dawn, the wind,
the lost kitten she’d rescued, the concerto
of Saen Sans, her notes on the latest novel
for the book club
Soon the grandchildren will arrive.
She sets the table, answers the phone, arranges
flowers in vases, puts on some nice music,
showers, dresses, perhaps a drop of perfume
a stick of incense perhaps in the bathroom?
The papers, the emails, turn down the flame
under the soup
Age is heavy on the ground
from flower to fruit
to candle glow on silverware and china
Age is heavy on the ground
weightless as a butterfly
© Johnmichael Simon
2007
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