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Today I walk in my garden.
Moist wind from the Bay of Fundy
Mists on my glasses.
A taste of brine is salty on my lips.
The garden is perfect today.
Peony bushes like overblown women in large
Flowered prints cluster together then
Lazily stirred by the wind, rustle and move on.
I check each bed, ruthlessly pulling out the weeds.
I press my nose close to heavily scented plants,
Hoping for a faint suggestion
Of my tomorrows.
For a short time, I’m still inside.
My garden fills the spaces in my head.
Pain, anxiety and loneliness
Pause for a while.
I’ll join them in a few minutes.
But for now, for a breath
I feel whole again.