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.