Poem On: Day 24

Clefairy (#035)

You told me you you’d seen fairies in the garden.
I believed you because there were fairies in the garden.

Before we met I’d smoke, not ashamed, by the lilies.
Young, work-ruined, breathing careless in the garden.

A fall night I saw it gathering hawberries:
Pink thing, cotton-wooly, attention barely in the garden.

Beings in this place by choice draw down a kind of bliss.
A pink softness could heal, unafraid of its rarity in the garden.

The nursery stories were true, but not the morals—
When does sharing a world become something scary in the garden?

You and I took tea in silence, double trust thick and sweet,
Shared the last painless ether-dream to marry in the garden.