Nature Abhors a Vacuum
Other folks’ garden grow up
architectural in hostas,
angelica’s height kept in the background.
(leaves almost lost in the tansies and
did I mislay
that Goliath in
Boxes hedges edge,
all labyrinthine intent
(anyway, who likes that
clipped smell? The Minotaur must be
much more at home around here)
An obedience of alyssum and lobelia takes turns
beside pin-stripy conquerings of lawns.
(my blue ones wild spill from cracking pots
sometimes all starflowery spotty. No.
I’ve never known their real name.
And Japanese people do amazing things with moss)
Tall plants waft erect, stake-controlled
police the border’s back.
(poppy buds fat, fit to burst
by sweetie-paper marigolds overwintered
from last year, near toddler-drawn Livingstone daisies.
There are no spaces, as splattering currants –
both flowery and fruity
Two houses down, above a wholesome
horticultural virtue, a buddleia
If you have any comments on this poem, Beth
McDonough would be pleased to hear from you.