Beyond Perimeters

New owners appraise the land

upon which

garden parties, book clubs, receptions

will soon be staged.

The expanse of manicured lawn,

edged with well-trained roses

and ornamental trees,

surrounds a marble fountain.

Bird feeders,

filled with thistle and sugar,

dangle

from iron-wrought designs

intended to invite

a selected few.

Pleased and proud - the owners retreat,

unaware

of what lies beyond

perimeters of societal value:

An empty bed,

its cover wrenched by hands

trained to keep

only that nurtured by man.

Stripped of heavy burdens of what was -

flower heads hung heavy, grieving lost beauty

leaves long loosed, moldering in mud

weeds twisted, their choking grasps weakened -

the old bed,

unseen, unknown, unwanted,

awaits.

Bulbs,

long buried by pesky squirrels,

quicken, then shoot

violet, white, blue bursts

bespeckling dull dirt.

Tender frothy ferns of chamomile

slip through

damp earth.

Vines of mint thrust forth,

entwining dandelions

roaring into life;

clover spreads.

Pink and yellow blossoms

call forth.

Bumbling bees respond,

sipping syrup for their hives.

Robins, too, peck about,

seeking juicy worms.

Volunteers emerge -

tomatoes, kale and pumpkin -

seeds gifted

from remnants flung

out of sight, out of mind,

by party-goers

eager to discard

what’s waste.

That old bed,

seen, known, wanted,

revels -

beyond perimeters

of social worth.