Widow Wyile

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Three Weeks in June

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Three Weeks in June Widow Wyile

Three weeks in June
is all it takes
for every wort and weed
to reach
                        a high
r o u n d   p r o f u s i o n
in the humid variable heat 

can you picture it?
every bed and
un-lawn space
of the sort of glade
amid the trees her
house resides in
a
highroundprofusion
highhighhighhighhigh
roundwidehighbushywidedense
foliagefullspreadlushlongfoliage
highhighhighroundprofusion
plantsplantspackedtightabundantplants
profuseprolificprofusion 

the burgeoning land of perfumed
azalea blooms    fading lilacs
and coming into seed grasses
the Widow Wyile mowed and
bid fond farewell to
three weeks prior
greeted her as a towering density of verdure
and spent blooms
            the browned pink of
            rain battered peonies
            torrent flattened rosebush
            daisies down to their eyeballs
            lashes dropped

Upon her return
every bed and verge
all available growing space
a teeming crowd
sensitive ferns spread
to become a jungle forest
a tenacity of roots
           of binding vines
           of faded and emerging flowers
the motherwort and horseweed
                                    well above her head
the uprooted blackberries
sprung up sturdy new dragonlets
the ever-advancing carpet of goutweed
a self-satisfied
            she can’t help thinking
above-the-knee-sea froth of wee wide white blooms 

and as if that weren’t enough
the mouse moved back
            into the barbecue 

yet this exultation of nature
is as it should be
and the pleasing curlicues
of garlic scapes are signs
of the sort of spiraling flexibility
she aspires to loop-de-do