American Sentences: May 4, 08

All the tasks wait for me at the garden gate:
deadhead
the pink blossoms,
separate
the wild sweet peas
growing like Bible tares
from rosemay, oregano and tarragon--
the herbs I planted when Chris left
for college;
email and return calls--days
blacked
out in calendar hours, a schedule
of arrivals and departures
that becomes
the emotional terrain
of family, the widening sphere
of planet earth that today looks tame
within its gated community
while in Iraq
where my son-in-law serves,
families have lost their pleasure domes
and gardens fill with weeds.