If there were words in stones,
And stanzas in plants…
If chain link came in couplets,
And wrapped around fence post verses…
If tomato plants reached up in rhyme,
And cucumbers blossomed in meter…
I’d have written a few dozen poems lately.
So while my writing has taken a hit,
I’ve gained dirt under my nails,
Scratches across my shins,
Burns across my back,
And I’ve carved out space for life
in my life.