Archive for the ‘gardening’ Category

The business of gardening

In gardening, life, poetry, survival on June 30, 2011 at 3:22 pm

The first notion you have to give up is that everything has a right to live.

It’s not practical in the garden.

Or if  you believe it has a right to live, you have to know not all, most even, won’t make it.

This will be at your own hand.

If you are not good with this, then being a gardener will be harder on you.

It’s mostly a business of death, funny enough.


workers in the garden

In gardening, relationships on April 17, 2011 at 10:02 pm

Here comes the March bees.

“Finally,” the gardener taps his spade.

Smaller, he’d run from them hands over his ears, past

his father’s taunt, “Be still and they don’t mess with you.”

Weakly now, stronger soon, they will serve.

His welcoming heart, an older hive.

the gardener reflects on berries

In gardening, life, presence, relationships on December 7, 2010 at 6:46 pm

The gardener found saggy berries on the ground

And ones on the bush needing to be cut

The gift of something to do

The doing gives him something to be aware of

The awareness gives him something to celebrate

The celebration gives him knowledge of change

Change shows him his life


In gardening, idtenity, relationships, survival, worry on November 1, 2010 at 12:25 am

The rain challenges the gardener’s trust.

Stones must be scrutinized in order to believe each will accept him.

Tools slip and cut indiscriminately.

Trees will turn on him as he leans against their slick bodies.

meeting in the garden

In gardening, presence, relationships on October 17, 2010 at 4:10 am

The flower stares into him.

It is so good to be known.

the gardener’s heart is unknown

In gardening, relationships on October 12, 2010 at 4:19 pm

The rock’s heart is rock.

The gardener’s heart is soil.

The rock’s heart is rock.

The gardener’s heart is the garden.

The rock’s heart is rock.

The gardener’s heart is his wife.

The rock’s heart is rock.

The gardener’s heart is earnest.

The rock’s heart is rock.

The gardener’s heart is muscle.

The rock’s heart is rock.

The gardener’s heart is never still.

The rock’s heart is rock.

flowers have no fear

In gardening, life, survival on October 1, 2010 at 12:25 am

The flower is fearless.

It knows all about time, what love is.

Death is fine with the flower.

Like sunshine and drinks.

as the garden is

In gardening, idtenity, relationships on September 29, 2010 at 5:09 am

Be still Gardener

Be still as that young tree

Be quiet as the rock that looks like a boy’s shoulder

Remove yourself Gardener

Removed as the bird perched close enough and far enough

Be in the garden Gardener

Be in the garden as the garden is

preparing the soil

In gardening on September 28, 2010 at 12:20 am

Break me down. 

Break my rocks.

Break my crust.

Crumble me between your judging fingers.

Renew me, prepare me.

To produce again.


In gardening, relationships, worry on September 26, 2010 at 3:05 pm

The gardener frets about the sunnier side of the garden.

The flowers in the shadows laugh how he concerns himself with fairness.