The contract
and it’s four corners
help define
the gardens very existence.
High on top
curved arched walls,
she sits,
properly aligned
pushing down and forward
hands to hips
creating a one time
silhouette.
The pressure builds,
she begs,
using a string
of favorite words.
It isn’t until
she’s given
that one key
that unlocks
the rhythm wave.
Quick to memorize
her favorite position,
she moves forward
with very little effort
a quiet whisper
asking,
“May i, Sir?”
With eyes looking up
fingers dig in
the music mirrors
the release
she’s fallen
in the garden
that is properly christened.
The ebb and flow
through the night
this year has just started
she’s more than full
having caught her breath
she shifts
in to the water.
Hands reach
to grab her
slowly she sinks
hard against the hour
the music loops
she can listen
most clearly now
to soft-bitten instructions
there to help guide
as she fills
the contract in.
She can take
days, weeks or hours
to complete
the four corners
of the garden.
Dragonflypoetry.com 