Perfumed jasmine from Iran, a yellow sunflower
from Mexico make room for natives—
butter cups, Indian paint brush, a wild iris
all greeted by an English rose.
Every species needs every other.
The Japanese maple sheds its leaves,
seeds and reseeds—offers food
and shelter for birds and bugs.
The sweet and sour of a lemon tree—
without the fragrant flower
there’d be no fruit nor nectar
for butterflies to sip.
Aphids suck juice from leaves, stems,
roots of plants while lizards gobble
aphids, beetles, ants.
Neither sun, wind or rain discriminate
nor bees that pollinate. Side by side
they live, thrive as I do in this home-grown
microcosm of diversity.
—
Laurel Feigenbaum began writing in her eighties. Poetry is her way of exploring and coping with the world in which we live and the inevitable changes that come. She is the mother of three, grandmother of seven, and great-grandmother of eight. Her work can be found in The Amsterdam Quarterly, The Marin Poetry Center Anthology, and her recent book Life In No Ordinary Time.
