-This poem reflects on a midsummer garden grown thick and unruly, where abundance presses past order into lush, living excess.
The vines have taken more than stakes,
they lean across the narrow paths,
beans climbing high beyond their string,
squash leaves spread broad in tangled shade.
What once lay measured row by row,
now thickens into reach and weight,
the tomatoes crowd the basil close,
and every bed forgets its edge.
No lack is in this living push,
no error in the loosened form,
just summer leaning past the plan,
and asking room for all it makes.
To walk there is to feel the truth,
that growth does not stay neat for long,
it gathers leaf, and stem, and will,
until abundance turns almost wild.