the ruella are in the fairy

chaos reigns 

the four o'clocks mock the hour

showing up when 

they damn well please

while the mustangs muck up the la france 

the wilting impatiens are wrist to forehead

faint from heat

even in the shade

as the chile pequins, rigid with delight,

stiffly stick out their little hot red tongues...

standing here in the noisy mess

of my own disarray

i fit right in

and firmly resist the grace that always comes 

in awe of all of this wild abundance

perversely to enjoy 

the wicked invasions of johnson grass

and the proudness of weeds