Gardening is a way of scratching through,
Hard surfaces, the crust of present time,
Where curly leaf-sprigs spring and spice drifts through  
Blue blossoms as they bloom in even rhyme
And fruited phrases hang upon the air.
Perfumed by clouds of pollen in each row
A gust will blow and punctuate with care
The rounded phrases as they ripen, slow.
Once we have pierced that rhythmic underworld
Persephone presents for our employ,
A bunch of tightly winding tendrils, swirled,
That rise in strict procession, structured joy,
Then dry to brittle, bleached out stalks that sway
Once Ceres comes and blasts it all away.

Sally Cook is both painter and poet. Whether writ­ing or paint­ing, she keeps a sharp eye out for the psy­cho­log­i­cal por­trait. Her essays and poetry have been pub­lished in jour­nals such as The Chimera, Chron­i­cles, Con­tem­po­rary Son­net, Iambs & Trochees, Pivot, and The For­mal­ist Por­tal. Look for her in the next issue of Light Quar­terly. Cook’s review “Rhyming The Right”, of William Baer’s anthol­ogy “The Con­ser­v­a­tive Poets”, may be seen both in the cur­rent issue of The Uni­ver­sity Book­man and on its website.