Spilling into Lightness

Sometimes abundance comes all at once—
the golden sweet peaches, the corn in its husk,
the yellow squash burgeoning in the shade

of thick leaves, the Japanese cucumbers
lengthening into longer green succulence
every day. Beans. Eggplant. Melons. Peas.

The garden is spilling with all of these riches
and then of course there is love, which heeds
no fences, which grows despite rain, despite

sun, despite frost. Which grows, which grows
as it does, as it does with its tumble of yeses
midst head shaking loss, its cracks and its crowns,

its wings and its clumsy feet. And because
we are vessels of breath and flesh, we try our best
to contain it and we come up incomplete—it spills,

it gushes, it makes a fine mess. What better to
say than yes, yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.


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