If a gardener pays for every flower he tenders,

his children have no bread for breakfast.

If a queen sleeps in her garden,

The city will be without a star.

 

And the queen knows the gardener,

like a shimmering jewel at the bottom of her window,

where her cat sits every night. 

 

Is love the impossible air carried by flowers' scent 

and diffused at windowpanes?

Does the cat sit for the stars or the moon? 

 

But then, the stars don't know the moon,

and the moon is ever busy 

with the ocean’s needs.

 

Maybe the castel is a mystic

because everything can look impeccable

from a great height. 

 

February 2026

Lexington, Kentucky, USA

 

Cover art by kucukgulberkan on Pixabay