Among the plants an encounter:
Black-speckled feathers hopped
Into view and paused to hear
The sound of person down below
Chatting to tree and bush.
This day it was maggie and me
Who stared at each other across
The path your cool appraisal’s
Look of trust knowing I would not
Start or move in suddenness
But look away, remembering Frost.
“Two look at two.” It was you
I met one winter’s day with book
In hand instead of spade and
Understood that turning page
Would take me further to somewhere
Else. That now I stand on solid
Ground where maggie lived and I
Have found the call of line that formed
My heart, waiting for garden all this time.
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