This garden

The Oracle knows what’s on my mind.

This garden

This garden soothes like the breast of the sea,
like the shell of an egg in a wild bird’s nest,
like a pebble as pale as herons’ wings,
in the rippling shallows beneath the sun.
It soothes like the head of a long-lost dog,
laid on my lap, the look in his eyes
deep as the sea, soft as foam and feathers,
confused with those wisps of hurrying clouds.