I
6am mid-August, the backyard labyrinth.
The young brown rabbit doesn’t care much about me, takes her time
quiet chew, something low, round-leaved and green on the path ahead
hops ahead of my bare wakening
feet, past golden black-eyed susans, phlox in three colours, disappears
into shade under toothed leaves.
Tall cup plants, bright yellow magnets
for late summer monarchs, not yet
in flight.
II
After another night’s thunderstorm, before the daylong steady rainfall that the garden has wanted so much, a sliver of sunrise, an early morning swim.
