Ode to this Summer by Leslie Bustard

How much land does a man need? 

Leo Tolstoy

Enough space for a monarch to flutter

around the butterfly bush in the backyard

and then flit away, only to return— 

as if it had forgotten more sweet nectar could be found.

And enough lawn for white clover  

to scatter around the grass, and for a few

bumble bees to shimmy and hum

over their pink-tinged florets.

A little bit more land for the shadows of 

trees and their branches to come and go, 

sway and disappear throughout the day.

There needs to be space for a raspberry bush and

patch of black-eyed Susans (that will fall over

by mid-August); also,

some soil to grow basil for fresh pasta sauce, and

rosemary for roasted potatoes.

To make iced tea and lemonade— 

an ever expanding tangle of mint and lavender.

And for the wooden table and chairs 

my daughters gifted me last spring,

a stone patio. Here we will share early evenings 

of harvest fresh meals and happy laughter.

I’ll place flowerpots with bright 

red geraniums and pink peonies close by.

Ants will scurry about, as 

fireflies float up and away to the stars.