by Robert L. Ferrier18 Sep 2014
I found St. Fiacre immersed in ivy
a hooded bearded statue
clutching a spade and bouquet.
He blessed my friend’s purple iris
coral bells petunias impatiens
a flock in three dimensions.
He might be searching for herbs
like those he found in an Irish abbey
or still seeking solitude in ransomed land
as much as he could trench in one day
pledged the bishop
unmindful of the power of a spade.
He circumscribed a perfect
perimeter, like this garden
an arbor for healing.