A Pastoral Vision

Every garden dreams 
of being
Eden: rosebushes 
or wildflowers, it hardly matters 
as long as the hum of bees 
remains peaceable and the door 
to the grave stays hidden 
beneath a swath of grass. 
In the cooling afternoon 
each flower relaxes 
on its pedestal of stem, 
and the gardener too dreams, 
under a tree weighted 
each fall with apples.