Planting the Meadow

By Mary Makofske Mary Makofske
I leave the formal garden of schedules
where hours hedge me, clip the errant sprigs
of thought, and day after day, a boxwood
topiary hunt chases a green fox
never caught. No voice calls me to order
as I enter a dream of meadow, kneel
to earth and, moving east to west, second
the motion only of the sun. I plant
frail seedlings in the unplowed field, trusting
the wildness hidden in their hearts. Spring light
sprawls across false indigo and hyssop,
daisies, flax. Clouds form, dissolve, withhold
or promise rain. In time, outside of time,
the unkempt afternoons fill up with flowers.

Source: Poetry (May 2001).


This poem originally appeared in the May 2001 issue of Poetry magazine

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May 2001
 Mary  Makofske


Mary Makofske attended Douglass College and the University of Minnesota, where she earned an M.A. in English. Her two books are The Disappearance of Gargoyles (Thorntree Press, 1988) and Eating Nasturtiums (Flume, 1998). She has won several awards, including the Robert Penn Warren Prize from the Cumberland Review.

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Nature, Landscapes & Pastorals, Gardening, Activities

Poetic Terms Metaphor, Blank Verse

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