Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Smell of rich soil,
wet from the drenching rains,
weeds yield to my gentle tug
beds of shimmering color,
the droplets refracting, reflecting
radiating warmth, richer hues
buzzing of the bees,
stop to watch the yellow swallowtail
hovering over the blooms,
the bright cosmos, the yellow marigolds,
the stately Black-eyed Susan,
mud under my nails, green stain
on my finger, a hint on my shorts
a smile on my face, under the thin sweat
out in our garden, the girls in the yard
laughing in the summer sun

July 23, 2008

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