of past harvests and bloomings,
she composts grey mistakes which
December has weeded.
Morninglories unfold
when she sings at dawn.
By afternoon, tomatoes swell
and the first apples redden.
Sunset tucks her beneath
silver artichoke arms,
the flowering cape
of a strawberry bed.
All night she dreams of
zucchini and eggplant,
strokes warm dirt like
a quilt's satin binding.
She smiles and sighs
in her sleep.
Secret carrots stretch
and juicy radishes fatten.
