(jardins sous la pluie)
notes of rain hang heavy
in this thick garden,
among snails that bow
like fat plums or strange fruit
from the fresh branches
they rise up to the rain;
their golden shells a bright turban
they carry as they rise from the earth
like sunken cathedrals
and once beyond
this canopy of young wood
the feeling anthers of a snail
blink at the beauty
of the moon shell
and the snail, now heavy
full of longing,
full of light,
is bent back down
to earth