The zinnias are abloom In bright orange and fuchsia The marigolds are showing little buds Their potency of golden yellow Will soon grab attention From the mint and dill and basil Growing almost wild With the daily watering And the sun in my garden. Something is still right. I linger here, My island of forgetting Where I can touch see feel For real. I dread the virtual Wide outside that comes incessant In daily feeds of death and disease. Who would it be today? Keep faith with the flowers.
2 May 2021