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
intoxicating

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