Our human condition frayed
It’s not yet summertime
And the garden party is well underway
Right now the coreopsis
Is on my mind with
It’s Dionysian dancing
To the rhythm of the wind
And melody of the sun
But you know how it goes
Always the same old pollination story
The insects must do all the work
While the flowers get all the glory
And Nature remains profligate
A hopeless spendthrift
Especially when it comes
To matters of life and death