days of mint

Sometimes there are days like this
days of mint
you pluck it and you peel it
you wash it
and you talk about the garden in the shade
the heaving of the leaves
the squirrels claiming the trees
the hare that came to adorn the grass that morning of quiet
the finch with the black mask and the crazy colour of orange
you pluck it and you peel it by the root
and you wash it with your sorrows
and you talk about the smell lingering on your fingers
you drink it in the hope that it heals
you talk some more
about the odor of summer
the moist in the lawn under your feet
the dirt between your toes when you wash them under the tap
sometimes days are like this
days of mint

(L)