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Archive for the ‘spirituality’ Category

the gardener misses the garden

In gardening, life, presence, relationships, spirituality on September 19, 2010 at 2:05 pm

All he sees is what needs to be done.

The gardener cuts and cleans, carries away the dead.

He hasn’t been in the garden for days.

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the gardener learns to see

In gardening, poetry, relationships, spirituality, Uncategorized on September 17, 2010 at 8:46 pm

“This flower.” The gardener pauses over his lesson. “This leaf.”

This is not another leaf which has fallen from another tree.

This not a symbol or an abstraction.

“Not a flower.”  He studies. “This flower.” 

Respect every, appreciate each.

“I am trying.” He breathes, “I am one gardener.”

The teachers in the garden cheer.

the gardener looks closer

In gardening, poetry, relationships, spirituality on September 16, 2010 at 2:25 pm

Not the weather but the ability to adapt to it.

Not the harvest but the acceptance of this offering.

Not the time but the experience.

flowers’ revenge

In gardening, poetry, relationships, spirituality, Uncategorized on September 10, 2010 at 2:13 pm

We call on our friends the bees to sting him.

Again, again!

On the ripe blue vein on his hand when he bends over to snip.

At his neck as he swipes and jerks. 

Thank you,  and again, please.

Oh the joy in his agony and twisted dance.

“Ouch!” is a funny word.

His cursing upsets his wife. She loses sympathy, calls him a child and slams the door.

Spiders get him! Touch his face! Bite hard!

Breathe in his groaning prayers!

Amen brother and sister bees.

We flowers don’t belong in vases besides photographs of dead people.

Kind as we appear, we have our ways.

Returning the rocks to the ocean

In gardening, poetry, relationships, spirituality, Uncategorized on September 10, 2010 at 3:16 am

All the early morning trips to the beach collecting rocks, hauling canvas bags of them up the bouldery hill to the station wagon, knowing I was stealing from the planet, worried about getting caught by the rock police. Unloading the thousands of pounds of ‘smoothies,’ ‘craggies,’ ‘striped ones’ and ‘faces’ and placing them around the house creating a dried riverbed in front, where the Home Owners Association prescribes  a choice of 3 standard lawn grasses. Singing in my head, happy at the importance of this act of creation and defiance. So bold as to not to heed my wife’s warnings about my back, or my back’s throbbing agreement. My teeth gripped down, locking back groans.

Three years later here I am, doing the same thing, only in reverse, digging the rocks up from where I so caringly placed each,  filling up the same misshapen bags, bringing the rocks back to their beach home. A suburban performance of Myth of Sisyphus.

I’m going to create and tend to a fruit and vegetable garden. Along with the rocks, which I’m certain have multiplied since their planting, I’m uprooting the plants and flowers whose names I don’t know from this 6 x 21 foot raised bed area in the North West part of our backyard.

I have big plans for cucumber, tomatoes, zucchini, lettuce and onions.

I’m worrying about irrigation, mulch, nutrients, organics.

This should change my life, don’tcha think. 

 

 

from with to versus

In gardening, poetry, relationships, spirituality, Uncategorized on September 7, 2010 at 5:52 am

The gardener and his wife are fighting about the rules.

She won’t do anything he wants it seems.

And he thought the garden was difficult!

And she thought the house was difficult!

When did it go from with to versus?

death is an everyday thing

In gardening, life, poetry, relationships, spirituality, time, tolerance, Uncategorized on September 7, 2010 at 5:46 am

You have to have the stomach to be a gardener.

The breaking and the ripping away.

Death is an everyday thing in the garden.

Clean it up and move on quickly.

Keep ahead of the feelings.

You need to live with a wall inside of you in the garden.