Volume 3, Number 4
April, 1998
Echos of the Garden
I inhale the moist fragrance of the earth
mixed with the fragrance of the
hot sweat
of my own body.
I feel the sun on the my back,
the cool dirt under my
fingernails
and on my cheek
and nose from where I
scratched an itch.
The weeds are green and strong.
Sone slip easily
from their bed,
others put up a great fight,
like a huge swordfish in the ocean.
Some win and I
leave them behind with a sigh.
And my back,
frozen into the stooping position
-- Liesbet Huron