the lily bed

if i had any rage i took it out on the lily bed

and its web of ingrown roots

the fruit of thirty years of spawning tigers

i scythed and hoed, slicing through sod

separating innumerable worms from their other ends

and cleaving through the rusty orange roots that choked the ground

until, at last, the spread of green leaves was cast off

exposing dark soil to the lowering sun

as the sky grew blue with twilight

a lone goose flew by beyond my sight

its melancholy honk ringing through the stillness