The Ides of June

The petals are sodden,

edges frayed—stigma

shriveled like melted wax,

stems falling in heaps—

blurring my memory of

June flowers.

Long drafts of rain and

overcast skies have shrunk

the joys of aerating, mulching

and appreciating my garden

and brought us back to

overcoat weather.

In these last decades of life,

dark evil thoughts fill my

brain at the loss of each

summer day that should

have been—each sunlit hour

that never came.