Garden soil wakes
Seeds tumble in on their own
Growth waits for no one
Garden soil wakes
Seeds tumble in on their own
Growth waits for no one
The heat of a summer day softens and slips silently
Into evening twilight.
The shifting shadows and cooling breezes of evening chill my being and
Bring an acute awareness of sorrow and emptiness to my state of mind.
This subtle, soft twilight is lonely and empty now
But was beautiful at other times and under other circumstances in my life.
Twilight holds tenderness and acceptance of love in times of loving but
When love is missing or withheld, twilight is punishing in its loneliness.
A solitary stroll through the garden is a waste;
There is no joy in relaxing in the rocking hammock alone.
Light sadly leaves the landscape and drains the world of color
Just as this lost love drains my soul and heart of color.
The trees along the edge of the clearing blend into a fortress wall,
Locking me out in my loneliness.
Fireflies blink on and off but evade my eyes behind the fortress of trees
and the stark cold moon light accentuates my solitude by throwing only one shadow behind me.
In better times, when I was not alone, the deepiening twilight was a magical time,
Full of love and acceptance.
We walked the garden paths together, basking in the glow of the moon
And soaking in the softness of star-shine.
Our shadows moved willingly behind us, hand in hand,
And fireflies lit our way home.
I want to go back to that time, back to being a valuable part of two,
Back to the times of softened days that faded into loving nights of passion and acceptance.
I need you take me back there, please…
The joy of a muddy puddle after a rain and
Spider webs stretched out on the grass waiting to dry.
Rain makes tree trunks darker on west facing sides with
Moss growing toward the north.
Forest fallen leaves flattened by winter’s snows awaken after the spring rain and
Crisp morning air envelopes the crystal blue sky of a new cloudless day.
Dawn brings a new world each and every morning, while
Night’s darkness hides the transformation from yesterday to today.
The world of this moment is a different world from yesterday’s,
From an hour ago, from a moment ago.
It all is in flux, all impermanent but dependable in its trustworthy impermanence and
Therein lays the joy of a muddy puddle after the rain.
It is warm here now.
Just yesterday I could still feel the cold.
It retreated upward,
The sun melting the frost.
Mother Earth sending her warmth
To meet the sun’s, with me in the middle!
I hear the rain striking
The earth above me now,
Its sound no longer muffled
By the snow.
The water puddles around me in the spaces between the rocks and
Softens my shell with its spring freshness.
My soul is awakened and has been waiting for this moment,
Waiting for the conditions to be just right.
My softened shall cracks and
A single, tiny root pokes its little head out into the soil.
It stretches its very being into the darkness and
Finds water and nutrients to power my growth.
Slowly my stem emerges from this shell and pushes me ever so gently up and up
Around the rocks and worms,
Bending to avoid the obstacle’s, always holding me in love
While searching for the sun.
I have never seen the sun, but I know it is there.
It has spoken to me in my dark winter of dreams.
Its promise is finely fulfilled when, only by gargantuan efforts, my
Tiny stem has transported me to the surface of the soil.
My head breaks free and I feel the fresh spring breeze for the first time as
My stem lifts me up as an offering to the sun.
Through my soil bound journey, a miracle has taken place within me.
The work of God, done in darkness, is now revealed.
My seed splits open and my two magically made seed leaves open
Their fresh green faces to the sun.
Its brilliance is over whelming and
Its warmth and love unsurpassed.
I feel its strength soaking into even fiber of my being.
The sensation is incredible and I am full of life.
But the end of my journey is still a mystery to me.
What will I become? Only God knows …
He has built the blueprint into my soul
But he hasn’t given me the instructions.
I will grow in the awareness that I am aware.
My being will take in the sun and wind, the soil and water, and I will become that which God intended.
Whether his intentions be a sunflower or a string bean,
I will be happy and joyful at being a part of His plan and
I will rejoice in His goodness.
A new crop is rising,
A crop of hats, mittens,
Dog toys and charcoal grills,
Picnic tables and croquet mallets,
Ripped tarps and broken flower pots,
All forgotten, abandoned when winter forced us inside and slammed the door behind us.
A crop not intentionally left behind, just not thought of
In the business of life, lack of day and lengthening nights.
Our forgetfulness was hidden by darkness. In the awakening Spring,
The rakes and shovels are still hiding behind the trees, but
The lawn chairs and gnomes are springing up
From their blanket of snow,
They rise like statues, offerings to the Gods of Winter.
The snow retreats from their shoulders, knees and feet
To reveal the flattened un-mown lawn beneath them,
Left over proof of our Autumn failings.
We stare from our windows at the litter of
Leftovers and wonder how we could have forgotten them all as
They look back at us with blank faces,
Trying to pretend that it never really happened.
I hear the rain in the early morning darkness,
It’s sound muffled by the closed windows and leaf blanketed forest floor.
But its soft sound is enough to keep me awake,
Awake and day dreaming of happier times.
Of times when the sound of the rain brought sweet contentment and thankfulness
For its life giving qualities to my mind.
A time when it was summer’s refreshment,
And the garden sang in gratitude for its warm sweetness.
But now, as I sit here on my bed at 2:00 am, alone in this November darkness,
The droning on the roof only serves to remind me of our separateness,
Our aloneness and isolation, one from the other,
With the sound of the rain our only connection.
This simple connecting sound brings me to thoughts of him and
I picture him in his room,
Lying beneath his white down comforter,
While the rain drops roll in rivers down his bedroom windows.
The rain’s sound is amplified by the sloping eves of his bedroom ceiling where the soft flicker of candle light dances.
The memory of the warmth of his body lying next to mine takes my breath away.
I can feel his long lean limbs, light but strong, wrapped around me in complete trust
As together we sleep as one, our separateness abandoned and replaced by a union of warmth, safety and love.
But slowly my day dream fades and reality comes seeping back to me in my empty bed and
The sound of the rain outside my window becomes the sound of my tears.
Although the scene in my mind fades away into the darkness of this November night,
My thoughts stay with him.
And as I try once again to lose myself in the healing peace of sleep
I become aware of the missing sound of my heart beating in my chest.
It seems my heart has left me and has chosen instead to stay behind in my day dream with him.
But I don’t feel betrayed or upset with its abandonment for
I cannot blame it for wising to remain in the sweet memory of candlelight, soft love and raindrops, I understand – it is my wish as well.
Star lit straw flowers and
Curled parsley sing in the garden at night.
Basil dances in the moonlight while the
Bee balm hums to the rhythm of the crickets.
The singing bowls of fox glove ring in the morning sun and
The symphony of the night is silenced.