Saturday, June 17, 2006
It is yellowing now, its stems watery, weak
This bleeding heart that on the first of May
Exploded over my garden with its weeping blossoms.
It was beautiful then, but now it is rotting.
I want to tear it out.
I want it to subside, just
A mass of thick roots, deep underground
To yield to the joyful fire of zinnias
Rightful heirs to its space.
Summer clouds drift overhead.
It throws forth a blossom, one, two
Asking for more time in the sun.
I am the gardener.
I'll decide when it's done.
Posted by Julie Zickefoose at 1:34 PM