A light rain may soon descend.
I’m off guard, but love a gentle upset.
The new garden project–
a fenced terrace for herbs and flowers–
goes on with careful intent.
What was rocky hillside
becomes a sanctuary for my senses–
flowers and herbs protected from
things that eat each night when I sleep.
The best hiding from this unnerving
century may take place in plots
of living earth.
The fascination with worry
sells so well that the wisdom
of our spirit-masters is ignored.
My quest returns me to the earth.
A gift to be able to measure time
not by the gun of the clock, but by
the swelling of the cucumber!
Let the light, summer rain come.
Young blossoms opening their throats,
indulging in their first sip.
What influence spills into me.