Monday Poem

Band of Saints

still in his garden
light
he apologized to his sunflowers

promising things would
change
he swore by all that’s right

that he would end his
war
with the earth that brings them forth

on stalks thick as
thieves
upon which bright heads

turn from north
leaves
open as palms of supplicating hands

in rows of six foot stems a
wall
dense as the barnside to the east

its shadow pall upon baptisia
space
and soil each umber face and corolla

together a mute coro de oro
true
as a band of saints to whom he

genuflects and greets
.

by Jim Culleny, 7/18/11

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