Not Planting

I’m not planting.
I’m weeding,
just around the edges
we share.

Let mother know
don’t worry,
say flooding hasn’t blocked
our way out.

You were out here in
yesterday’s rain.
I wanted it to be ready for you
to come to morrow.

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In My Defense

Nothing is reserved.
I get a window seat
taking off through tunnels
on a recreational retreat.

Hole number three
I hate. I quit trying to win.
The dream’s more outside
than it can be within.

Pawning my way back
home later than planned,
a scorpion takes a run at
the pen in my left hand.