July in the Garden (1996)
I have been working this hour in your garden.
Here where the distant promise of fruit
is like a memory of quince and guava,
persimmon, fig and pomegranate,
the press of earth against the senses
becomes a story also of summer heat
rising like dust, of August-scented evenings,
the poised slow slant toward the rains.
Across the ground I trace the plough's thick lines
to where, as raked stones sometimes will
around a chosen boulder, they gently curve
to skirt the double rose, the hardy lilac;
lines that repeat those subtler interventions
and longer presences: the foot placed tactfully,
an upturned hand extended toward the rose,
these lingering prints along the air and soil.
Cormack, Bradin. “July in the Garden (1996) i.m. JLW.” The New Compass: A Critical Review 3 (June 2004) <http://www.thenewcompass.ca/jun2004/cormack.html>