Gardening as an act of trust

Gardening is such an act of faith: 

To stuff brown bulbs into bare ground 

When all the leaves have fallen 

 And trust that flowers will emerge 

Once winter’s snows have melted,

 Is amazing: not only to plan so far ahead, 

But to know that the flowers will return each spring 

 And also multiply!;

Opposites

We are so quick to divide life into opposites — 

Good, bad; right, wrong; 

High, low; black, white; 

 Rough, smooth; wet or dry — 

When will we learn to see life as a möbius strip, 

 Where each fades into the other, all shades of gray, Tempered by heart, experience, and time?

The potential for rebirth

Nature has a way of reminding us 

That new life can spring 

 From death and loss; 

That, tossed upon the shores 

Of heartache and devastation, 

We still bear within us 

The potential for rebirth.

A light in the darkness

This was the blood moon, 

Taken last week, 

Earlier in the evening, 

Before it eclipsed and turned red 

(And was shielded from view by clouds). 

I post it now to remind myself 

There will always be light in the darkness, 

Even when we can’t see it. 

Even when the darkness 

Feels total, endless, and irredeemable, 

It’s still there, and at some point 

We’ll see it again.

Devotion

And if the question were to be asked, 

“To what are you devoted?” 

What might be your response? 

There are so many possibilities: 

Some start with the word “my” — 

My family, my health, my garden or my art — 

Or other, broader, “my’s” — 

My church, my faith, my party, 

 My community, or my country— 

 While others start outside ourselves: 

To beauty, truth, compassion, peace, 

And then the question must become, 

“What form does that devotion take?” 

What does it mean to treasure or to care for?

Protect the young

How can we not feel protective of our young? 

That innocent gaze is irresistible.

Morning fog

With foghorns mourning 

 In the gray and emptied distance, 

My eye turns away from the shoreline 

To the garden I tend to ignore 

And I celebrate the simple charm 

 Of plants that choose to bloom 

Without my interference, 

When so much else in my world cries out 

For thoughtful intervention …