Just dropping in to the garden centre
to buy some plants and you are met by
a personable woman with drying mud
on her muscular hands and a streak
of well dried mud in her gathered hair
Her manner is confident; she runs this
garden centre from the base of her
rubber boots to the ends of her hard
clipped fingertips and the reach of her
husky get it done now or leave voice
She knows the plants where and what
she knows the stock the possibilities
she knows the nefarious plans you have
waiting for the cedar bush you are eyeing
somewhat tentatively as if you might know
You see her in a small clearing near
a pond deep in the remote musky woods
she is naked pinning back her hair the way
a wanton woman will she turns and looks
over her shoulder at you, winks and dives
