Do not speak to me about heaven
unless there are cats and dogs.
I want to see furry ears stand.
I want to be offered a fuzzy paw.
Horses must gleam in pastures
never short on clover, and cows
plain and piebald must low.
Chickens get a raw deal here.
Let there be chickens.  All
creatures big and small. Er,
hornets and slugs could maybe
have nice places of their own.
Horseflies ‘n’ gnats?   Be sure
to  take pity on goldfish –
orangefish, should be called --
especially the ones that laze
in the reflecting pond at Duke
Gardens.   Need lily pads,
need frogs.  Tulips and lilies
of the valley. Ivy and a trellis
for it to twine.  Put me to work --
easy, now – in a garden nearby
when the weather is right.  Need
rain, you know.  Just a shower
now and then.  My mother-in-law
will be kneeling to pinch deadheads
endlessly off marigolds.  Yellow
to go with the sun.  Son-by-
marriage’s mom is happy seeing
to rose after rose.  A man I love
is busy fussing with bulbs
he will plant in the fall.  Glads.
Gotta be glads.  Weeds, as long
as they don’t take over.  All
of creation, all whole, all bright.
All the colors of the spectrum
and more we have never seen.
Now that, sweet luv, is my idea of
h e a v e n.,

(c) Phyllis Jean Green, 2007