back home there is a garden ,
it is small & unimpressive & sits in front of my house.
i grow simple things
and send all the tenderness i can to their roots
(with a thumb that is steadily turning green)
sometimes insects come & gather round me
like a strange ritual, worship circles of ants & beetles
--antennae waving.
chanting in silent language.
there are some roses growing on the verge,
which lend rich reds & whites
to the arrangement of my plantings.
each morning as the dew rises fresh & hot
i pick the aphids from each flower
and they bloom in peace.
May 31, 2011
May 31, 2011 at 5:04 PM UTC
back home there is a garden ,
it is small & unimpressive & sits in front of my house.
i grow simple things
and send all the tenderness i can to their roots
(with a thumb that is steadily turning green)
sometimes insects come & gather round me
like a strange ritual, worship circles of ants & beetles
--antennae waving.
chanting in silent language.
there are some roses growing on the verge,
which lend rich reds & whites
to the arrangement of my plantings.
each morning as the dew rises fresh & hot
i pick the aphids from each flower
and they bloom in peace.
garden love
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