April 19, 2015

the garden is my primary place
for meditation these days,
in these majestic mountains,
in this place of serenity and beauty

I inherit an abandoned plot –
weeds have overgrown
last year’s plantings
and perennials –

preparing the beds for planting
i dig up old carrot roots,
unfound potatoes, decomposing,
and sundry forms of organic life

I crumble the good earth
with my fingers – I feel
the power in the soil
to sustain a new growth

with a shovel and a rake
I turn the old soil over,
exposing its underside
to sunlight and fresh air

then sprinkle a little mulch
in the furrows that form –
spread the mixture slowly,
evenly, to form a flat bed

it’s like an open wound,
exposed, that heals quickly
with sunshine and oxygen –
it’s time to place the seeds –

I punch holes gently, gently
in the heaping, heaving mound
and drop two or three seeds
into each little womb, and wait . . .

weeds grow like, well, weeds,
and must be plucked, removed –
and on dry days there is watering –
& waiting & hoping

today’s meditation is complete –
my body is tired from digging,
raking, bending, touching the soil –
I’ll sleep like a baby tonight.

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Author: Raymond Maxwell

https://raymmaxx.wordpress.com/ Librarian, retired foreign service manager and former naval officer. Strong interests in information architecture, instructional design, critical pedagogy, taxonomies and metadata management, information governance, and cultural heritage preservation.

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