As I struggle to be grateful for even
the oxalis overtaking my garden
once again
by Heather Bourbeau
I.
Today, we will gather outside,
say brief thanks, share bounty
baked and brined. Jackets and gloves.
Selfishly, we will thank gods for the dry.
Tomorrow, we will pray for rain.
We will have leftovers, complain
of bellies too full. Groomed to
Augustus Gloop, drown in chocolate.
II.
Today, hand in butter, I stare out at my garden,
make mental list to rip from roots
oxalis, nasturtiums, wayward vines
before I see the rose. Yellow. Audacious.
Fragrant. Out of season. A summons.
To honor the testament to water,
hail the return of spiders and worms
to a lush, low lying green.
A young camper will brag,
“I have already kissed five banana slugs,
and I am only seven.”
I will see how blind I have been,
how much I need to catch up.
- The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Apostasies by Holli Carrell - May 5, 2026
- We Call Upon the Author to Explain—Timothy Geiger - May 4, 2026
- The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Apostasies by Holli Carrell - May 4, 2026
