glasshouse
I am the garden of picnic tradition
of grateful leg-stretch of midway haul
of still-cool sandwich, esky-calved,
beneath old-world boughs of other realms
this could be a hundred towns
but I am ark-bound
by nature and name
my Noah preferring
gardens to zoos
the thermos takes last orders
as in the distance
begonias press their fleshy faces against hot-house windows
peering in not out
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