No time to write today
the flowers I picked a week ago
are wilting now . . .
time to gather more.
Through my window the sun
enticed me outside
to tend my little acre.
Foxtails flaunt their lovely seeds
daring me to find them
and I do
pulling them out . . .
where there is one
there’s always another
and another leading me on.
My cat follows me
lays down in front of me
curls his body down, around
for surely
if I am bending down
it must be to pet hlm.
He does not understand
he’s not the only thing
that matters in my life.
There’s weeds and grass
and flowers to pick…
the mending and attending
to the writings of the earth.
Allegra was born on a farm in Wisconsin 95 years ago but has lived in California since 1963. Her love of poetry began as a child…her mother would recite poems as she worked. In addition to being widely in journals, she also has three books of poems and three chapbooks to her credit.
