time now to go into that garden and wrestle with dry demons of barrier and neglect, to make space for what will be, a scatter of seeds and the gentle earth, you set down the small chair in welcome. out in the morning the crocus mouth opens to frenchkiss the sunlight honeybees rub bellies on bright intricate pollengods. butterflies from latitudes away instigating sri lankan typhoons in this glorious day given just like a gift to those with hearts to receive. behind the shed it smells of ramps and water and the compost is sweet. real earthworms and rubber snakes in the garden among green fingers of some waking deva. i build a stone causeway to the brushpile and ache to take off my shirt. the mud sucks at the stones as i pass over lo and behold it is springtime.
the neighbor dog only barks a little and i go in to write love letters. you couldnt be more perfect. wise gentle and affectionate, fullhearted softspoken and how we laugh. how ive never laughed before and when the world becomes too much for me to hold you hold my hand and sweetly draw the drowning rush away. and i for one, who has lived her whole life in fear and degradation feel the weight lifted like waking from nightmare. i stand on the sacred earth and want for once to be real.
"..labor in love of this garden, growing it outwards in all directions..."