Firesale

rustic plastic flower pots, empty seed boxes,
wanton rakes, shiny blue hoes, and general crap strew the garden,

frit chickens stand hushed for once:

parched crisp hollow
fennel, dayglo haywire, mile-a-minute bindweed, well-weathered crimson
strips of once useful wood, a yellow crate cum side table, the broken once
green now taupe plastic chair, a fat permissive raven,

and I conclude,
that little white passenger aircraft

looks very like an
aphid from where we sit,
lapping the last honey sun the portly
seggins assisted in the

making of this year