I Ask the Moon by Diane LeBlanc

The azaleas, this year without leaves,

are all lip and bone.

 

Feminine of azaleos, the word

means dry.

 

Old lore says to plant beans

during a waxing moon.

 

But first sit naked

in the garden at night.

If you sink or for a minute settle,

almost sprout, it’s time to plant.

 

So I go naked beneath my plaid robe

and bend to sniff the soil.

 

The azaleas urge: toe the mulch,

unbutton your knees and squat.

 

After five months of winter, to be alone

with such possibility.

Advertisements
Categories: Issue 2 - Spring 2012, Periodicals, Poetry | Tags: | Leave a comment

Post navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: