A heavy rain dunk the biscotti bite

through the next thought and the next

Tahitian ginger blossoms strewn

under their bush-become-tree reaching

over the quartzite jigsaw we named lanai

I find myself counting the white petals

eight all told in each there’s a number

shaken loose by the downpour but this

isn’t about one overdue gardening project

everywhere I look’s the same if ever there

was a sense of control it’s been shaken

loose too and all illusion of order with it

Monday last I cut back one night blooming

jasmine outside my bedroom and another

near the fire pit the Queen of the Night

reduced to knee height twice afterwards

seeing I’d made small wounds openings

where fear flushed through so fast I was ready

to accept responsibility for new empty space

ready to plant something less overpowering

a scent such as cinnamon gardenia ready

to turn my back on it give resilience a chance

allow the cut branches to flourish anew

can I keep this up this cutting and shaping

this risking this turning my back on emptiness

one thing about a downpour in the night

so heavy it pushed through leaks in the roof

I’d thought repaired it’s left the air

refreshed breathed into hesitation

it’s cool this relief with beauty in disarray


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