<p>Late in the season the world digs in, the fat blossoms
hold still for just a moment longer.
Nothing looks satisfied,
but there is no real reason to move on much further:
this isn't a bad place;
why not pretend </p>
<p>we wished for it?
The bushes have learned to live with their haunches.
The hydrangea is resigned
to its pale and inconclusive utterances.
Towards the end of the season
it is not bad </p>
<p>to have the body. To have experienced joy
as the mere lifting of hunger
is not to have known it
less. The tobacco leaves
don't mind being removed
to the long racks---all uses are astounding </p>
<p>to the used.
There are moments in our lives which, threaded, give us
heaven---
noon, for instance, or all the single victories
of gravity, or the kudzu vine,
most delicate of manias,
which has pressed its luck </p>
<p>this far this season.
It shines a gloating green.
Its edges darken with impatience, a kind of wind.
Nothing again will ever be this easy, lives
being snatched up like dropped stitches, the dry stalks of
daylilies
marking a stillness we can't keep. </p>
<p>thjere was a question about the tobacco line...</p>
<p>Argh, if you look at their site, the CB says May 31 (which is a change from May 29) but if you log into your organizer and look at when it says your scores are up it says May 29... weird.</p>