Garden

This photo was taken a year ago almost to the day of some flowers in my garden. Every year at this time, I start working in my gardens. Last year I didn't. I took it for granted. This year I don't have a garden to work in. Funny how much we appreciate things more when they're gone. I wrote the poem a few months after the photo, because I was feeling guilty about neglecting my garden. There's a bond, or spiritual connection, that grows with gardening. My aunt, who is a master gardener, gave me a book called "Tending the Earth Mending the Spirit" at the time I wrote this poem. It's by Connie Goldman and Richard Mahler. It's very inspiring.



Though she can't speak
She cries out very much.
Velvet petals of red and pink
Reach out for my touch.

Tender seedlings struggle
For their place in my garden.
Against a weeded jungle
My heart has hardened.

She senses my presence;
Flourishes when I'm there.
I'm quieted by her essence
In return for her care.

Pushing fingers through soil,
My cells will rejuvenate.
It's for love I should toil;
A spiritual connection to cultivate.

But I have neglected her,
And myself likewise.
Physically we need each other.
It's our Life Source we recognize.