This Garden

The two mallards land in the pool,
and we watch as they float,
speechless like a dance, and for us
a rare moment of reverence.
For days, I’ve been thinking about
this spoilt beauty next to the water,
trembling like blue petals.
Up in Ontario, you’ve spent afternoons
painting a table and the unfinished chairs
in the sunroom, and perhaps have wondered
about the sort of light that comes from
one’s own hands, that fades colour.
A few years ago, a fish tumbled from the air
into the pool and we saw how the bird that
had let it go circle as the creatures below
circled too inside that invisible flower.
Down here, the azaleas buzz,
and as if ahead of time,
I can see the colours of the garden
you are dreaming of planting again.

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