Dianne and I grow good omens
in our garden.
Admittedly she does most of the work.
I spread the manure.
We cut bouquets to give to our friends
when they fear dying.
Or when they invite the four riders of the apocalypse
to gallop through their living room.
God admonishes us for giving away
the beautiful blooms
before the bees finish pollinating
and the good omens go to seed.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney