Summer Sanctuary
By the second week of July
the front garden is a fortress
the formal beds a moat,
quelling the siege of Trump flagged pick ups
blaring talk radio,
their occupants tossing fast food bags out windows
as if the world beyond their four wheels
is a giant wasteland.
With a splash of Wild Turkey in our heaviest tumblers
we lounge in our summer sanctuary
surrounded by towering sprays of grass
that spill over the tricky brick path
their sticky razor edged leaves leaving
a rash of welts on our forearms
when we try to tame them with rounds of twine.
Protected by lush ninebark and lavender coneflower buttons
bawdy annabelle hydrangea blooms drape so low
they sweep the ground.
From center stage and a mound of mulch
the quiet star rises erect and poised,
her central leader a spire, shooting skyward
a lookout for solitary birds,
branches, draped in cascading foliage,
purple chocolate glistening
a porte de bras of perfection.
The merlot weeper’s regal silhouette still until
the soft wind rattles her graceful limbs,
a shower of garnets stirring.
Elevation, February 2021
Elise Chadwick 