Posted in Uncategorized, tagged gardening, patience, poem, poetry, work on June 19, 2017| Leave a Comment »
Push again the small dried peas
one inch into the earth. The gaps
in the rows where they did not grow,
do not take these personally.
Not everything comes to fruition,
but that is no reason to stop planting.
In fact there is every reason to believe
that not so long from now
the sweet green song of fresh sweet peas
will serenade your impatient tongue
if only your hands keep doing their work.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dead heading, gardening, poem, poetry, success on June 4, 2017| Leave a Comment »
I snip off dead flowers
to trick the pansy
into blooming again
wonder which
of my past
blossoms
to cut
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged forgiveness, gardening, happiness, poem, poetry on May 31, 2017| Leave a Comment »
After the frost,
the sweet peas
rise from the dirt
like little green angels
with bowed heads
and tiny green wings—
it’s enough to make
a woman believe
small miracles can happen
if only she plants
the seed.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged anarchy, gardening, poem, poetry on May 29, 2017| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged awakening, gardening, poem, poetry, silence on May 14, 2017| 2 Comments »
Digging there in the dirt
with small seeds
in your hands
you hear the wind
high in the cottonwoods,
you hear the silence
sown inside the wind,
and the quieter
you are, you hear
perhaps, within you
a call like the geese
that aren’t flying
overhead, a startling
call, an almost
strangled sound
that, if you heard it,
might almost
wake you up.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged gardening, poem, poetry, reslilience, sunflower on July 27, 2015| 1 Comment »
Those forlorn, sagging sunflowers,
all morning I watch the severe arcs
of their lifeless stems. Just yesterday,
they were so full of vigor before I pulled them up
and moved them across the garden.
I, too, have been ripped up. Is this why
I can’t stop staring at them all morning
at the slow, slow straightening,
the gradual unflagging of the leaves,
the marvelous resilience
I want to believe I might find inside me
no matter how brutal or well intentioned
the hand that tugs, tugs at my roots.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cosmos, gardening, poem, poetry, story on October 3, 2014| 2 Comments »
After the frost, the cosmos fronds
are brittle and brown. Not a hint
of return. Not a trace of pink. Brown.
Partially dust already. Sometimes it needs
to be this way in order for us to do
the work that must be done—the pulling
up of things by the roots and discarding
them into a pile. No, if there were any green chance
that the cosmos might bloom again,
it would be easier to tell the self a story
about how, with some luck and some care,
the plant might leap back to life.
But the story is a trick ladder,
every rung is covered in oil and even
if you reach the top it leads to nowhere.
Look. The flowers are dead. They were lovely once.
Say thank you. And give the stem a tug.
