Jugo.

Fifteen were the blessings.

Fifteen were the bright
And gallant dressings of
The wilder WWOOFER's galley:
  staunch, straw-bailed, and
  saturate with charm.
The saccharin travails,
Kayak sails,
And sunlit, dreamless trails
Of Bluegums Farm.

Sally forth--and stab that thistle!
Rally there--and rake that stinging missile!
Unga unga's everywhere!

My ally for three weeks,
For blasting weakness through
The throes of double-digging through
The rigging of the weeds I shatter with
The weeping of the shovel's rise,
Had sprigs of hope for me
And fifteen blessings, givingly:

The zip and zest of Nilguen;
That heft and deftly clever talk
Of Thom;
The muffin throngs of Maike;
Those songs of wood-working
(And work that's gladdening)
Of Gunther;
High- and Light-born ravenings
Of Holger haven us
In jetties of
This mourning sea;
The searching groove of
Drums that dull
That rust of night
Of dusky, wreath'd Rebeccah;
The thriving youngness of
The goodness that repeals
That peal'd "Goodbye."
Of lush and comely Maren;
Pizza-oven comings
And flowerings
Of fiery gatherings
Of feisty, ever-flashy Raoni;
The chooks that croon;
Lemon balm that calms
The forge of noon;
Vitam-r, that's forged
Of creamy factories, afar;
The flush and simpering rush
Of apple ciders--corked ajar;
The clomp and ancient clod
Of Taka's hooves
On stranded sod;
The jog and boundless jump
Of Jugo's paws
On bounded gates
(And lambs' quarters);
This court of last and lasting company,
Plaintive brush of friends and fonder lovers,
And this lingering of unharmed fire
In the folds of hearts, untired
By the woven heartwork
Of the land--

Is woven of three weeks I gave,
And save my unrepentant lust to see
I'd stave my sight to charm
And stay, awhile
On Bluegums Farm.