Sunday, June 20, 2010

10/35 I Take Over the Religious School

I am the gardener
Each child skips through my flowers
I don't plant the same bed twice
Each set of toes knows where it has danced
(or trudged or ground into the mud,
spurning each blossom with "Ewwwwww!")
I take cuttings from one bed,
Splice to stems from another
The cheery yellow tulip from the front
Goes double, earns frills and purple trim
No single path to blossoms here
Each species groomed, each petal sculpted
Drawing every set of toes forth
Never tiring of my garden.

One set of feet, too nimble, too quick
For even a garden so crafted as this
No mere tulips for this dancer, orchids,
Bird-of-Paradise, Spathodea,
Bloodlily, jacaranda,
koutruk leis around his hips his neck
For this one is my dancer
My child my Ronnie-Me
And the most elegant plantings
That I craft for the others
To dance five years 'til their legs grow weary
Cannot hold him for a fortnight
The artist gives her star student
To the conservatory

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