I come from a garden
four siblings (different as our own seasons)
green beans picked &
snapped open separated by ideas
Yellow autumn sent us
each in four directions
taking brother away from brother
eventually we will make it into stews and red sauces
our sides pointing sharply
at each other
only
ideas run grey or blue
or blood
we will return
one by one in turn
with our season
&
visit each other in our overturned garden
until we exchange
thoughts
like
cannon
fire
