Herbie Mann Comin' Home

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Still Close



The leaf and branch bin, steady morning rain on it,

Picked up by the unseen compost truck, then rolled by me

To its modest square by the fence,


Damp beauty bark some inches deep.  The rise

My synthetic shoe soles make around that

Mound of yard, sequestered, dense,


Barely confers with nature, except perhaps

In having her thump back against my moving 

And hold me up -- its motherly sense.


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