From my zero-gravity chair

a garden! where any American friend and curly tree, spaced between the clouds and wind, would love to be The rabbit known by scent and stride, & one good twitchy eye is safe for now inside its poor Scotty self who's been freed from a raptor's talons as is tree kitten, with a truculent heart, who limps still idly and slyly by Aptly a lilac the colour of pierced sides is now the crown the kitten and soul wear in a garden! from where I sit A wasp, or lost parsley space, remain about the same, too, as the rose's puff stem bent cruelly toward the ground Digressions always make skies look narrow, worn to me. A sigh from a neighboring pug is the only sigh around

Addendum:

They'd gotten into the habit (birds!) of spiking the wind-- predisposed in their favor, any way--& pounding the earth on which fall all the crooked, muddy, personable seeds to ever lie ‘tween watered rows and some nearby weeds.

(2020)