• Tricia D. Wagner

#36 Poetry I Felt Not Until

Updated: Nov 15

Poetry I felt not

until to garden I trekked

estranged to the shape of a verse


by green quieted I pruned

and no ear for silence


served I the delicates wine

from my watering pot, and

to hear flowers drink –

and no eye of artist


when enthralled

at terra level

how lamplit the stamen, the stigma, the style –

how brushed lay the sunstreaks of gold

down a petal’s spry face!

No hint had I how

to wait for the moving – a piece

until bees in their patient work

drew me the way.

Alive with my company


we weave

the stories exhaled by

the petrichor clay.

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