Garden ~ April, 2020By Arlene Iris Distler Tugging at weeds on my kneesthe daylily bed, soil level,about to aim my trowelat a clump of pointed spearscradle of gold and pinktrumpets-to-be,when a toad, cameoed to the hiltwearing a knobby tilth of dark ochreleaped into sight. “Oh!” I exhaled,then admiring wordsflowed at the fellownow still as a clay garden figure.Grateful my trowel had missed him,grateful for this lifeat my feet. Arlene Distler is a writer and poet based in southern Vermont. After a decade of … (read more)
