Early Summer only in my Mind

This year, you've come reluctantly, or so it feels.
Your visit, nevertheless, with a bright smile,
elicit a life of me in my deepest darkness.
So, with a trembling hand, I fuss over you
to serve a cup of tea or a bowl of jasmine rice,
hurrying, knowing you will
be gone soon, as
the simple-minded lover when we were young.

Now, young-old, I know, how to spend our 
brief time together;
still I tend to be forgetful or lack cleverness, 
I'm afraid I might upset you.

Review what I have done last spring:
planting pink roses, peonies, tiger lilies, etc.,
growing well; a promise of a blessed summer.

I need some more work to do: soften up the soil
of the garden in our world; remember to water until
they bloom and wither in autumn. For now,
I will pry what the moon whispers to them,
as the petals tremble in the passing wind;
and in the morning, I will greet them and
do what I have to do more; for you and me.

This is published in The Avocet, a Journal of Nature Poetry, Summer 2025 issue.
© Byung A. Fallgren