Gardening in the Dark

You live just across the street
and at night,
you see lights in the window,
and movement,
cooking sometimes,
and dancing.

At times you see her huddled
in a chair, swallowed
by a thick robe of many colors,
huddled as if in fear
or memory.

She makes no attempt to hide,
yet never comes outside
in the daylight, gardening
only by night, planting perfect flowers
in perfect beds, in
perfect silence.

And when your own courage
waxes with the moon,
and you knock on her door,
no one answers.

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The picture is from a part of Consider Bardwell Farm, down the road in West Pawlet. This was an example of taking a picture and trying to write a poem to it, instead of writing a poem and and trying to find a picture.

Tom