These words here
are set aside
to make more meaning of them.
All of them are meant to take you
to the garden of my youth
(now and long after I'm dead
where rhubarb ruts toward lilac's lavender fragrance,
and pink peonies sit in shade of
the tall, skinny sway of one red cedar.
Every so often it leans out past pear and crabapple
and rolling lawn to
the tart red currants I pluck
to taunt the tongue...