Plant People
They tend soil that holds
sprouts until the
sun and rain intersect, spiral rainbows,
the helix, or a tornado dream
spiked with bits of memories and
fused images
a long-eared tree
the invisible prairie
thorny blooms edging a vase
They tend soil,
obeying rules geographic
sometimes astrological,
shooting toward the sun
fern curlicues
and a billion grasses
They huddle,
run their fingers
across tips of muley,
bermuda, and bamboo,
grooming, pruning, thinning
They perform a sun
salutation,
seduce each other,
fling themselves naked
against the heat,
grow magnificent with green.
On August ninth they harvest.
| -- | Nancy Taylor Day |
| March 1999 |
Blooms
Exploding bomb dust --
no comforting horizon
this April morning
| -- | Nancy Taylor Day |
