Widen, palm. Stay 

stretched until you trap 

the fruits of your searching. 


Widen, palm. Blossom 

until resolve drifts towards your buds, 

burrows between arabesque petals, 

swallows your worry. 


Widen, palm. Grasp 

the blessing of your stretch. 

Let winds massage your spine—

Let roots grow taut in vacant soil—

sway to passing leaves

and map their route upon your base—


August heat threatens longevity

but gardener gloves nurture your interim.

A moth slips by, rests on nearby petals. 

Skies dim—a cricket sings its evening prayer.