How to Talk to Your Yard as If It’s Your Lover

Now that we have each other, I will pull and pluck
what is unnecessary. Starting at the top
I will work my way slowly down,
caressing each moist bulb and dirt lump,
molding you into me. My breath on you
will have the power of weather: morning glories
moaning open, Japanese maples suddenly
hard and firm, the koi pond licking mossy stones.
You are my first yard, the one I have dreamt of.
I have been practicing on others for years,
using their temporary condition
as an excuse to be scared, neglectful,
or overwhelming. But you, with your carefully laid
cedar chips, thick pea vines, blankets of low green cover
heaving up and down in the wind,
you are mine forever, and I will
buy every how-to book on the market
to make this relationship bloom.

Copyright © 2005 Mary Christine Delea All rights reserved
from The American Poetry Journal
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission