A GARDENER'S GUIDE TO THE END
The peony's white dress torn
break in deference to the unyielding
year, buds springing up even
the bloom, the berry crushed easily
gone, you too, will disappear.
the names—lysimachia, monk’s hood,
who was there when the sky broke
before you knew the names of places
This was written at the Georgeson Botanical Gardens in Fairbanks, Alaska. I've learned many things in the far north—the names of plants, the persistence of light in summer, and the tenacity of beavers. In this exaggeration of life, teeming and busily building, I couldn't help but think of the ways nature will go on long after us, which is a thought that never fails to give me hope.