I have a Spring cold,
my chest thick with congestion.
Still, I go outside.
One must be at work,
they say, for inspiration
to find room to breathe.
Oxalis from mom’s
house in Victoria grows
beneath the iris.
Our yard is chaos
planned out from the beginning;
nature is random.
The roses need to be pruned.
A hummingbird whirrs nearby.
(April 11, 2025)
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