annette mickelson

Gardening on Minden Drive in Yorba Linda, California

The green grass crushed
beneath my jeans as I knelt
and pulled weeds from the ground.
The soft soil, damp and rich,
released the weeds easily,
their delicate roots brushing my hand.
The sun warmed the back of my neck
and a blue jay hopped nearby,
his bright eyes watching me.
Dirt rained down, shaken from the roots.
I threw them, limp, in a pile.
My marriage is dead.

For Brett: On His Birthday

I see your eyes teasing twinkle blue dancing light,
  or sparkle proud bright shiny wet
    at the corners.
Your hands large, strong, busy building fences;
  and fingers thick, stiff, fish hook scarred
    with nails chewed short –
  rubbing my back and pulling me close.

Is it any wonder my heart swells
  like a tulip lifting its face to the sun
    and exploding orange red with happiness?

Annette Mickelson (Hoofprints in my Garden) loves espresso, exploring small villages in France and spending time with her horse. She spends her free time making a mess in the kitchen, the garden and the barn.

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