The Garden (12.31.09)

This is it.
A history; a map of us.
.............

There—the peonies in the back
Those began as the first shoots, the first seedlings of our love
They grew strong, and hardy, and tall
Nurtured as if they were our children

And there—the morning glories draped along the fence
Weaving in and out, tangled, overlapping
Carefully, carefully, carefully tended
Entwined so fully one cannot see where one stops and another begins

Here the wildflowers, a riot of them
Each a tiny bit of transcendence
Sprung up inevitably, illogically, from all the shit
Near the sunflowers nodding their heads in agreement in the breeze

And these? I don’t even know quite what these are…
They just showed up one day, uninvited
Like guests to a party I didn’t know I was having

And the dandelions—oh, the gorgeous dandelions
Fully blown, a vast expanse of silent wishes
I stand among them, hold my breath
As each dream is carried away on the wind

I am rapt, enthralled by each leaf, every petal
Knowing all the while I this garden I must stop tending
I wander the paths, one last time, dazed by sunlight

Everything—everything, everything—dies