The hot days and cool nights marked
by garden tiger lilies and roadside rogues
and early cherry tomatoes that I pick
and eat here in my shaded chair –
book, pencil, paper, iced tea, these words.
At the garden edges, the volunteer seedlings
grow on their own despite my human
weeding deliberations at order, symmetry and control.
Thankfully not reliably identical to their parents.
Volunteers try modestly to change the world.
I went out to feel the equinox.
I raked leaves away from young shoots,
and connected the hose, washed away mud
until the walkway was clear. I wasn’t
gone long, but my coffee was cold.