in my backyard garden,
i grow zucchinis and beans
and lemon drop tomatoes
that pop with sweetness like a peach
when you pop them into your mouth.
i grow sugar snap peas and bright cornflowers
and peonies that sing for spring,
lilies that light up June,
and raspberries that show their blush
intermittently through three seasons.
i grow mint that makes mojitos
to cool the stress of a late summer evening,
and adds a spicy freshness to cold black iced tea,
a mum that has grown to twice its size
since last autumn’s dark planting,
yellow squash, misshapen and smooth,
to quickly toss into a rushed weeknight meal.
in my backyard garden, i grow children
who learn to clip the peonies to their knees,
who mow the lawn in erratic circles,
who search for the best recipes
for zucchini bread, lemon-drop salsa,
and cookies that make mouths water,
who cut and pull and cook and clean,
who grow into young women,
bright as a garden on a late summer day,
worth all the watering… the wait… the work.