Backyard Cosmology  /  Joshua Alan Sturgill     

The body clean and mended. 
Royal satin sky.  Radish, rocket

and kohlrabi from the garden
wet and crisp — green planets and tails

of comets.  Errands aligned, tools
at the table where the work begins,

I may dream now while I labor, or labor
while I dream.  Doesn’t the quiet mind 

cut the gem and guard the vault
and weep for beauty’s perfection

simultaneously?  The left hand may lift
and the right hand find a path

for the laden shovel, but it’s all
the single turning of the earth

 


All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2024 by Joshua Alan Sturgill. All rights reserved.

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