above the garden

the house waits. two lights across a corridor

stir nothing for the garden has closed up

for the night. even the wilting salvias

sag to sleep maybe to recover in morning

slurping up fresh water from a well-hosed

soil. growth dozes. except, lamps regale the house,

two humans repose with words, digging past

the midnight hour high above the garden

digging up the past in boxes and books

 

 

Copyrighted by the author

 

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