The Garden Before Walking

Watering the garden before walking through the meadow to the park, swinging with the kids, cornfield in the distance knee high and green enough to make my throat ache. A blue balloon left over from last night's party drifts into the ferns. There is so little to say! Now there is less! Even the shadows are made of feathers. Once there were candles, once there were maps, once there was a harbor into which the faithful prayed to be delivered. Text is grateful for but not contingent on the envelope. Faint rainbows as the water falls, swallows circling cabbage leaves so soft your lover could sleep on them.