Early blue lavender (Munstead) and air cannons over grain fields
(the pheasant, visiting us regularly now, startles in the hedges)
Rosemary flowers like minuscule orchids (and insects see how to go)
Writing at all feels pointless from the moment I think about death
—all the marigolds are coming up now, just as I expected they would
Cosmos and marigold
cosmos and marigold—and next to them
hyssop, scenting the floors of the ninth century
One point of close attention
is to see that things are not
dead, despite appearances
Blood and chive flowers
the thing flowers and then dies
the cat biting the rabbit’s carotid artery. . . .
This autumn morning, after the freeze, / They held a summit of the trees. / Motions were made and seconded, / And all the ochre, brown, and red / Snowed down.