Connie Yost (5/27/38 / Reed City, Michigan)
I'm tuckered from weeding and rest mid the flowers,
This offers real meaning to these warm summer hours.
A diminutive bug of green iridescence,
Honors my efforts with her elegant presence.
'My new hostas are choice', I'm dumbfounded to hear,
This announcement is crisp and surprisingly clear.
''They acknowledge my new horticultural scheme,
If you'll note the seersuckered chartreuse edged with cream.'
I don't blink, I don't breath, I quiescently stare!
'What did she say? ' I hear myself ask of the air.
The shiny one answers with discriminate flair,
Unquestioned advice from a gardener rare!
'The pipsqueak began blooming so early this year,
It's floriferous grandeur is waning, I fear.
Knotweed inspires a taxonomical question,
The untangled red my experienced suggestion.
And mad-dog skull cap is a welcome addition,
It's jovial nature precedes it's admission! '
All at once there is silence, I'm keenly aware,
Of unyielding edges on my old wooden chair.
It's half-past noon, I'm thirsty, and ready for lunch!
She is not to be seen, but I like her a bunch!
I'm sure she'd be helpful and most willing to share,
The next time I catnap in my old wooden chair.
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