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beyond the cosmos

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to an ant, the
garden is a macrocosm of
deeply-rooted
wonder.
we have never
thought outside
the flower box, we
have never

 

but some day, when i
stray from the
pheromone trail, i
might answer the
age-old question: what's
beyond the cosmos?

and some day i
will discover that there
is no glory in
mourning.
beyond the cosmos lie
hydrangeas and
carnations and morning
glories and a
solo prized rose
bush and weeds and
weeds and
roses and sheathes of
ivy that grapple against
themselves and constrict
to be free-- to
climb towards the
light like we
were all
meant
to do.




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