I was gardening hand and foot,
my mind hand-in-glove
with foxgloves,
when out of the blue
a rush of wind mistook me
for something much lighter.
Bowled over foot over hand
and about to fly,
I felt for my foxgloves
and they took hold of my fingers
by the thimble, fingertip
in fingerhut small wonder
their kind is called Digitalis
and their kindness dumb love.
They paid no mind to nature
calling them
to unhand yours truly,
here mute but gloved.
I smiled at the sky
between my feet, knowing
that my foxgloves are true,
truer to my fingers
than any mistake of nature.
My understanding has some weight,
so my feet will soon glissade
down to earth, to rest again
close to my hands
cuddling small wonders.
-- John Lee Clark