. . .the yard has been transformed, purple lavender blooming,
the frill heads of parsley, the chives, the dusty leaves of
mint and catnip, and in the sun planters, tomato plants
with their dark green corrugations, tiny yellow blooms
and a box of African daisies, red and yellow gerbera
and beside it, the hibiscus blooming, with its ultraviolet
purple calling to the bee, how transformed,
because Eros, grieving over his errant, errors,
went to buy plants and flowers
and turn this dusty ruin into a garden, now I sit
out here, alone, and think it is beautiful,
because in the earth’s turning, grief turned itself
into a garden,
because what else but grief or love can turn us back to earth.