The Garden Calls Me

We will so enjoy ourselves

Photo by on

I sing the wordless songs the same way she did,
Coaxing plants into their new homes, nestling deep
And welcoming them with gentle drenches of cool water,
Encouraging roots to extend down into soil enriched
With coffee grounds, egg shells, and dark tea leaves
Humming stories of distant mountains, misty morning
Splendors enjoyed by bright-faced daisies and dahlias.

Treasures are found in old dirt: century-old nails dropped
By carpenters building summer house for city dweller retreat
From concrete success and buildings piercing the gray cloud
Ancestors of ponderous mounds promising rain if they pause
On their way to somewhere else, same as the governess ruling
Her third-floor domain of huge bedroom, luxurious bath,
Small room housing luggage when not domain of sleeping infants.

Shard of terra cotta is buried beneath remains of long-dead tropical gift
Shoved into dirt much like bleeding heart Columbines spreading
Fragile strength throughout the yard, carried by deluges of rain
Revealing long lost golf balls, doll…