A Stag-horn fern, mounted
to moss-covered board
hangs high on an old nail
up the trunk of the liquid amber tree.
I mist the elk-like
rack of pliable leaves.
Dry from drought,
the garden is thirsty mid-winter.
Petunias hang bonneted heads under sunshine.
Succulents swell from my hose
not the quench of Mother Nature.
My dogs play tag through the trees.
The conifers bow and curtsy
on windy days like these,
that scatter rose petals
into the swimming pool.
Dogs slow down and rest a while,
enjoying the warm sunny pavement,
instead of days inside—
then skirting rain
for those most necessary times.
At night I sleep
under the silent skylights
of our bedroom,
dream rhythm
of rain above me.
—
Diane Funston has been published in journals including California Quarterly, F(r)iction, Still Points, and Lake Affect Magazine, among others. She lives in the agricultural Sacramento Valley of California with her husband and three rescue dogs. She replaced her lawn with a sustainable urban farm. Diane was Poet-in-Residence for Yuba-Sutter Arts for two years. She is the author of Over The Falls (Foothills Publishing, 2022).
