Morning lifts the patio door
Wind arrives before the rain
I brace my umbrella as it spins
And turn the whole field inside again
I kneel beside the wooden bed where marigolds are thin
A silver gust invades the path and tugs my chin
Then every spoke swings past the moss, ribs pointing sky
The Quercus leaflets lift their skirts as I look aside
Wind has turned my shelter wrong
Seeds are settling where they belong
Roots are holding what is gone
I bend and listen through the soil
Let the maple leaves unfold
While the open canopy uncoils
My fingers trace the handle's grain while dust begins to whirl
A tulip stem bends toward the sill, roots curled
Rain taps softly on the glass where rosemary grows
I let the loosened canopy show exactly how it goes
Wind has turned my shelter wrong
Seeds are settling where they belong
Roots are holding what is gone
I bend and listen through the soil
Let the maple leaves unfold
While the open canopy uncoils
I gather yellow petals blown across the stepping stones
Their perfume mixes with the loam and rests in cones
The dandelion's paper wings are circling the lane
I plant the tangled umbrella deep beneath the rain
Wind has turned my shelter wrong
Seeds are settling where they belong
Roots are holding what is gone
I bend and listen through the soil
Let the maple leaves unfold
While the open canopy uncoils
The hemlock flexes in the yard, each branchwood bending low
A cedar whips its fingertips and sheds another bow
I press the buried handle down where rhizomes can creep
And wait to watch the silver ribs begin their waking sweep
Wind has turned my shelter wrong
Seeds are settling where they belong
Roots are holding what is gone
I kneel and listen through the soil
Let the maple leaves unfold
Every open branch takes hold
