Hawthorne

Ruined but alive , wounded heart
encircled critically by rampant
wild blackberry canes, thorns
impaling nerve endings, pruning
with a vengeance what remained
of a defensive attitude; a life spent
propping up unworthy falderal,
yet energy sequesters for another
round of leaf and bloom and berry.

Daphne

In turning my attention to other things,
I found Daphne volunteering near the
compost, her existence justified by
fragrance and color indescribable; she
lives so quietly, transported from a
rooted shoot mere centimetres long,
Cape Breton born and bred, a beauty
never noticed till this afternoon when,
at news of sons and brothers lost, her
sister from another garden consoled
a mourner with her sweetness.