Photo by Tricia Knoll.
Garden Dangers
Five days of rain blur boundaries.
The sword ferns sharpen fiddle heads
in stretching days.
Where the wind felled the alder crown,
Buddha wears slimy leaves and algae.
How soon the woods strawberries
send out their skinny creepers.
The sun shaft stabs silence
at fungi on the alder roots.
The creek runs off its mouth
where no one cares to listen.
—Tricia Knoll
Tricia Knoll’s new poetry book, “How I Learned To Be White“, delves into how ancestry, childhood, education, and more form a concept of white privilege . . . and what work is required to see through that privilege and live in this multicultural world. She tends lavish gardens.
* * *
florasforum 