basil and tomato
inch high seedlings
into plain black earth
needing only water and sun
to turn hot August afternoons
into a frenzied kitchen
of boiling vats and pesto making
the annual lesson in much from little
In the once vacant next door lot
carpenters saw and hammer, smoke and laugh
and skytrak quires of plywood and giant wood tresses
By late summer they’ll be gone, the house contained,
the trim work and finishes well under way.
In late fall you will welcome our new neighbors
with the fruit of your labors.
Alone of the nesting birds
the mourning dove does not stir
calmly gazing back at me
as it broods
its perfectly white eggs.
Ivo Drury workshops words into short form and prose poetry in Ann Arbor, Michigan. His work has appeared in print journals such as Lilliput Review and Conium Review, and zines such as Elimae and Four and Twenty.