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ybrids of Plants and Ghosts
Stretched out in my garden for two weeks
in a buzz of frantic activity,
I seem to be attracting close attention.
The local inhabitants have crawled out
of their lives to enter mine and have made me
feel oddly at home. I thought I was
all alone: an island isolated
undone, amongst other unattended.
But my new-found friends have intimated
how we can all be lush and ripe and strangely
respectful and accommodating.
And yes, at least the waiting worms have
put on their napkins and are returning me
- without rancour – to that green condition
of last season’s richly manured marrow
having said grace – or something.
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