For Mother's Day

"Clearing the Garden"

In memory of my mother

Irene F. Miller, 1918 - 2002

There's nothing left of summer but the stakes

that held tomato vines and pole beans clear

of earth, though I have pulled and tossed their bounty

unharvested onto the compost heap.

Just rows of empty soil and weathered poles

remain behind, and faded ties of cloth

which once sustained fecundity.  When I

have gathered those, the garden will be bare.

The pantry shelves still hold a few sealed jars

from last year's crop that shimmer in the light

the swinging bare bulb casts; bell peppers gleam,

string beans in vinegar reflect the light,

tomatoes, okra, squash, and sugar peas

burn with the very last of vanished light.