(Marija M/Unsplash)
Digging dandelions summer by summer—
I regard them, hundreds by now, thousands,
but my work doesn’t do any good, our yard the same
as when I started, steely roots clutching earth.
In the Desert Sayings, a monk weaves baskets
day after day, and every year gathers
them into a pile he consigns to flames,
the weaving more about his hands
forming mantras than any useful work.
Published in the July/August 2022 issue: View Contents
