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After I had dismantled the parasol
its pieces spoke to me–it did not want
to be disassembled like this, wanted to see
the winter months out, collect spiders’ webs
and memories
so it could relate
frosty talk at the bird table next Spring
when the daffodils gamble
on the whereabouts of lettuces
in the new garden.

It reminds me of that apparent truism:
what we are, we reap, what we want to be, we sow.

In spite of the forecast of inclement weather
I put the umbrella back together.