Backyard Strawberry Patch

Tabi Lawson

Like dollar store wall art
framed by cheap puckered plastic
my old eyes see 
wild white woodland blooms 
beside rich ruby berries lying 
along lush green clover.

Blinking back the glint of 
sunset sunshine, my eyes stretch
past the patch’s borders to 
arid, azure skies and dark,
dry dirt, where my shoeless toes
wiggle, turning up garden fodder.

Fat earthworms dance and pray for
ripples of ripe rain to soften
Earth’s heart, to let them in again.
Blind, like I am, to more than this 
small space, worms and I trade tiny
tufts of dust, until I tire.

Quietly covering my 
fine formed friends, 
crisp colors of Spring circle 
my thoughts, shading my mind
from far off hurdles facing 
a future self, while here and now 

I am nothing but Joy.