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by Renata Jass

Crouched in the bracken,
I smell dew caught in its fronds
Sap is wound into my hair
Warmth clings to my handful of soil
I brush webs from my arm
without seeing them

I watch the dark garden
and the space between
here and there

Between here and there rises a live oak
from a grass sea
But my eyes seek only the garden

I know what blooms there,
surely as I were crouched
beneath the canopy of jasmine
that winks at the stars
I bear in my mind’s eye
the slinking vines that will soon
bear ghost-pumpkins
There, datura flowers spread
wide open at dusk,
moonflowers glint and
the scarecrow bears a pale robe

Birds hush, the breeze stills
A grey fox dives up the birch at my right
I dare not turn

In the garden at night
I can invoke protection
In the garden at night
My breath will be calm

Silence deepens and widens
I watch the space between
>From the bracken, under the birches,
I see the garden at night
And I watch the space between

Dew on the bracken
A warmth in the soil

I go