Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

down through the dew

my faithful dog
followed me
down through the dew
to the lingering
late summer garden

as if he can sense the star dust
i am made from
is 60 billion years old
and therefore i am
of an age to be trusted

passing my studio
metal shop

a gossiping pond

half dressed naked lady plants
whore leaning

and a gathering
of wind chime monks
who have broken
their vows of silence

to help me gather
truant tomatoes
perfectly green
for frying

sweet zing
of pungent plants

as i placed
rain and earth spattered
fruit from the vine
into my apron

four legged vinnie
picked up the ones
i dropped on the ground
in his jaw
with the greatest of care
and returned them slowly to the bunch
with only a few new holes

and a smile
telling me
of god

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