Tending the Orchard By Memory

Tending the orchard by memory,

all garlands are relics of worry;

prancing on patches before the edge,

yet I lull to watch this sightly hedge;

basin and stars lace paradise,

with lithesome mums for dragonflies,

pardon, unloose earthen flame,

rethink ripeness whilst it came;

be back amid dimmest bell,

and so tend the orchard well;

biding seconds until sleep,

harkening to asters weep.