Title

The allotment is modest, but

it's yours if you'll have it:

a dozen square yards of grass

blanketed in blue and white,

asphalt to one side & briars

to another, raspberries come

July. It spends most the day

in shade, sunlight just near

enough, with excellent views

of the old Keeper, the Hedge

& my brother's Black Walnut.

It isn't much, this patch of

flowers, but it's yours for

all you've done for me, for

everything I yet want from

you, in hopes it will call

you closer, a place that's

yours, like me, my distant

Knight of the Wild Violets.