Wild Abundance and Other Valuable Things

So much is Woolf’s grimy pence and pounds,
ledger entries and balance sheets.
The bankers convince us to run our lives
like (small, under-capitalized) start-ups,
money in, money out, money saved, money spent,
parsimonious and future-tense, as if
there is no real today, just the thin
horizon of tomorrow’s return on investment.
Never mind the sweet scent of honeysuckle carried
through the window from the wild abundance in the yard,
cut it down today, you’re told, or it will devalue
the entire quarter-acre you call home,
as if value is the same as pence and pounds,
what someone would (refuse to) pay
for what you happen to love, the waft of honeysweet,
the surprise of perfume offered freely
on the afternoon breeze.
What sort of value is that, I ask you,
that would privilege the absence of flowers?

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.