Early Harvest

Hollyhock high as a house,

yapping dog smaller than parson's shoes.

Gray wall of fog mutes

the pink tiles and garden whistler.

To grow things is to know things.

But I've assumed too much

having met my first atheist corn rower.

Not for me to prove seeds swelling to fruit

are for courage as much as cobbler.

Talking to dirt a comfort 

to being born of dust.

Scarecrow's got some sense.

Looking up for rain. It comes

with or without praying,

can't argue that.

Takes a certain talent to ignore

miracles. Imagine the poems

I could write

if this whole world

were up to me.