The Garden in the garden on a hot sunset, insects buzzing low, flowers offering their humble smiles, witnessing the passing light, an orchestra of lifetimes.

the scent of blooming jasmine weaves a robe around dusk, lavenders folded in soft tears, yet reverent turns take place, gathering the stars again for night.

each seed left to grow, rich with promise, creeping beyond the complex, of streets that seem non-existent, every sigh pulled deep from the earth, a gift we have forgotten.

Anne Waldman

• Anne Waldman