Summer begins
I have a garden,
the radish gone woody, the green leaf lettuce is bolting to seed.
council of tomato grow dark and stately, proudly topping their heads with golden blossom crowns;
the sugar snap pea playfully winding its fingers along the trellis;
the squash leaves bursting from their hills as chloroplastic fireworks.
The rain is overwhelming. Spring cried her eyes out in the end,
inches of water standing in the yard, in the garden, around the manure pile.
A mysterious well has replaced the asparagus.
Dog racing through puddles, regarded by tomato plants as fountain statuary,
long streamers of water thrown behind his romping feet.
Merry Summer Solstice, the heat of Day, the Sun, Life-bearer to Earth--much welcome.
Such joy in the green moss dancing under willow branches whispering
a home-coming spelled in fireflies, sung in frog-song,
repeated in the memories of lichen layers along the rotten apricot stump.
Now we come full circle, back to the starting point;
where we can now see the shadows of what has come before,
where we can now trace the shape of things familiar,
we balance the longest night in one hand and the longest day in the other.
Rejoice in the beauty of every
...moment,
...space,
...being.
the radish gone woody, the green leaf lettuce is bolting to seed.
council of tomato grow dark and stately, proudly topping their heads with golden blossom crowns;
the sugar snap pea playfully winding its fingers along the trellis;
the squash leaves bursting from their hills as chloroplastic fireworks.
The rain is overwhelming. Spring cried her eyes out in the end,
inches of water standing in the yard, in the garden, around the manure pile.
A mysterious well has replaced the asparagus.
Dog racing through puddles, regarded by tomato plants as fountain statuary,
long streamers of water thrown behind his romping feet.
Merry Summer Solstice, the heat of Day, the Sun, Life-bearer to Earth--much welcome.
Such joy in the green moss dancing under willow branches whispering
a home-coming spelled in fireflies, sung in frog-song,
repeated in the memories of lichen layers along the rotten apricot stump.
Now we come full circle, back to the starting point;
where we can now see the shadows of what has come before,
where we can now trace the shape of things familiar,
we balance the longest night in one hand and the longest day in the other.
Rejoice in the beauty of every
...moment,
...space,
...being.