gardens of flowers I don’t recognize
although I must have
planted them all, some year or another:
not as if they got here by themselves;
perhaps I was at a sale and picked a chancy
bulb, a likely looking leafy thing
dug a hole when I got home
waited to see what grew.
sounds like me doesn’t it?
plucking choices from a random universe,
blur of happenstance in color
with a cat meandering through.