The morning is spent, and me with it.
Hours of pulling weeds, spreading wood chips,
planning which shrubs to transplant where…
Some call it gardening.
It’s blatant manipulation, really;
rearranging earth’s flora to satisfy human aesthetic.
From my chair on the porch, I look skyward.
“Ah,” muse has joined me. “The sky is yours to ponder.”
I ponder muse instead. “The sky is mine?”
A scrub jay has been eavesdropping.
REE REE REALLY!?! his strident call inquires.
He flits away, a blue blur among green leaves.
WHO WHOOO WHO, questions a collared dove
from a tree further distant.
Who says the sky is yours?
I glare at muse. “See what you started?”
A lone grey pigeon cuts expanding circles above.
Owning the sky, eh, muse?
Usually, the homing pigeons fly in multiples.
Raised by a neighbor, I am told,
who lets them out regularly for exercise.
Are they his, I wonder? Or does he – in reality –
manipulate earth’s fauna for human enjoyment?
In the course of fifteen minutes three jets have passed overhead,
marring the bright blue sky with jagged white contrails.
Two big crows eye me from a nearby fence.
“No,” I sigh. “The sky is not ours.”
We just pollute earth’s elements for human convenience.
I’ve pondered enough. I’m going inside.
“The sky is mine,” I scoff, shaking my head.
“– to ponder… I said ‘to ponder’,” muse mutters.
“It was just a thought that struck me, like — out of the blue.”
“Tell that to the birds,” I say.
What Rhymes with Stanza? 
I love how you’ve framed this as an argument with your muse! And the sad truth:
‘“No,” I sigh. “The sky is not ours.”
We just pollute earth’s elements for human convenience.”
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Thank you. That being said, I did just fly across the country to meet my new grand baby. I’m not above modern conveniences. 😀
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Ohh, yes, the muse struck! Must be from throwing the earth around. Always does more than one trick. This is wonderfully multi-layered and full of silent conversation. “Track of the airplane – like the track of toothpaste on the cheek,” said an aphorist (Duško Radović, in Serbian).
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I like that image: toothpaste on the cheek. Quite apt.
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I enjoyed your original take on the prompt, Maggie, and smiled at the argument between poet and muse. I’d be a bit tetchy after hours of pulling weeds and spreading wood chips. I agree with the description of gardening as ‘rearranging earth’s flora to satisfy human aesthetic’ – I’ve let mine run wild. I don’t blame the birds for disputing who owns the sky either, especially when we ‘pollute earth’s elements for human convenience.’
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Thank you, Kim. In truth, I am working to restore a significant portion of my yard to native plants, but it still seems rather contrived. Once established, I will probably leave it to the plants to work it out on their own.
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Your opening line engaged me and made me smile, and your sky ponderings were equally engaging. Great write!
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Thank you, Beverly.
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Excellent Maggie, well written! Enjoyed this, though not the aspect of pollution.
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Thanks, Rob.
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I very much enjoyed your conversation with the muse, I wanted it to continue! 🙂
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Thank you. Muse shows up now and again in my blog.
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I truly hate the messing up of the sky by vapour trails. The birds manage to get from a to b without polluting. If we can’t we should stay at home!
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I tend to avoid flying, but it did come in handy last month so I could go cross-country to meet my new grandbaby and help the new mama.
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In Europe the distances aren’t the same. There’s rarely any reason to take an internal flight except for the cost, of course! The rail networks are expensive.
I had my first grandbaby on April 21st. She’s only 110 kilomètres away though.
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Congratulations on your first grandchild. Mine was born on the 4th, Easter.
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Thank you, and congrats to you too! My third child was an Easter Sunday baby too. So was his uncle, also a third child.
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I think that this makes me think of humanity at large and how we fail to realize that the earth cannot be owned… if anything we are awned by nature..
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Exactly.
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