Tall black-eyed susans push past
a low cloud of moonbeam
coreopsis. A crowd at
the strictly enforced border.
A blushing nymph
waterlily suns herself in the lake,
invasive as all get out
a pithy warning —
settlers’ sly insistent creeping.
There’s no room.
We squeeze each other out,
every inch of this perfect
green lawn saturated
with poisons for perennials,
marauding insects, crushed. The sweet autumn
clematis has leaped
to the shoreline, her bold daughter
blooming in white fragrance.
Chocolate mint escaped a container
to luxuriate in this lakeside
property. The natives are absent
except for one ancient poplar
and her old granddaughter. They hold long
minding the aquifer. Their silly leaves
play peek-a-boo with the beings
who flitter in branches and sing
nursery rhymes. The chill
in the foreboding air. The after-
taste of toxins.
is bound to follow
winter with vibrant new
species, resistant to the cancers
so carelessly created
as we succumb, unseeing
in our technodaze
to the newest wave of life
wanting to live.