Gardening

6/16/19

The weeds that live in my heart

after decades of breakdown
exist beside ancestral trees
and flower gardens
visited by honey bees
and dozens of species of birds,
land animals and golden fish
swimming happily in lakes
and rushing rivers of light
feeding my nature with intelligence
and the wisdom of sharing.

I reach with tenderness

and touch the weeds with caution,
learning the hard way
about soil erosion, land slides
and root structures
keeping up the beach
against the tide’s allegiance
to moon cycles and nothing else,
except maybe prayer
and the nature of miracles,
in which case,
I’ll leave the weeds alone.