Tag Archives: gardens

July 23, 2023 · 12:24 pm

SOLEMN VOW

Photo from Louise’s and the bees’ garden.

Where does my world begin and end?

Before the horizon or beyond it to some unknown shore

That has only appeared in my dreams before?

Is my world worth saving, again and again.

Are we simply so tired we do not mind it could end?

Helpless, it seems, I am to do more.

Technology now must save the day

as I find my own simple way

to save and protect all that I love.

I cannot sit still and not do my part.

I must give it my all, and give you all my heart.

I plant native plants and trees,

flowers whose blooms dance in fierce breeze.

Butterflies and bees swoop in and sip

the nectar of gods, nip after nip.

I feed the homeless and shelter those displaced

by flood, fire, crime, famine and war.

I visit the isolated and phone the lonely.

I stay healthy enough to stay earth-bound a few days more

to love those far away and those close around me.

I fold my hands and grip my rosary beads

praying those with power and ability

know what to do and how to succeed.

I love this Earth, its flora and fauna;

its sunrises and sunsets and all in between.

I love its sunny days and cloudless blue skies;

and days when storms hide sun behind a screen.

There is no place in the universe that I would rather be

than right here with you, as we face such adversity.

My hope lies in science and those drenched in creativity

who see beyond today to a future of love and harmony;

not just for all the people of the Earth

but for Earth herself who offers us sanctuary

within the endless energy of planetary boundaries.

Where does my world begin and end?

Right here, with you, right now.

This is a solemn vow.

take it and make it 

your own

somehow.

HIBISCUS, acrylic on canvass by Louise Annarino with gratitude to her garden.

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May 13, 2023 · 4:33 pm

THE BOBCAT

Hanging on the edge of sleep

I rise from my bed find some ease

within the garden outside my door,

the place where 5 a.m. feels safe and sure.

There I rest burdens hidden in dreams.

While standing in the doorway I see

a young bobcat strolling confidently

across the patio to where I stand silently.

He pauses to stop and stare, ignoring me,

beyond the neighbor’s fence, and there

curiosity holds him still.

My presence brings him no distress

while my hair rises on its own

and I glory while blanching at Nature’s success

in claiming my garden for her own.

Companionable moments I find with my feline guest.

Then, he turns and fluidly departs

taking with him a piece of my heart.

He follows the stepping stones I have laid

to guide my feet  along the way

around the birdbath path to the tree-line’s edge

where he blithely disappears into darkness,

where no paths lay that I can see beyond the flower beds.

Now, my fearful dreams slide away, too,

into the tree-line of my own bed,

where unreal fears are now easily shed.

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October 7, 2022 · 9:39 pm

MEMORIES

The hummers have left with the long sunny days.

Frost settled down and intends to stay.

All that is left of the hummingbirds feeding in my yard

are memories of their daily visits and aeronautic repertoire.

I miss their dancing forms as they move from flower to flower.

I am left with cloudy days that drag out lonely hours.

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July 19, 2022 · 12:56 pm

Flowers not Bullets

Even the flowers wear armor.

They hide their sweetest nectar

deep inside the keep

of their castle,

Behind high walls

surrounded by moats

of thorns and ramparts

of bristles and thistles.

Tender they appear.

But tough they are.

Bending in fierce winds

they survive.

Pass the flowers not bullets.

Flowers are stronger.

They hurt no one.

Their scent perfumes a planet.

Their tender gift of beauty

stirs love and forgiveness.

Even flowers wear armor

to protect themselves.

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July 7, 2022 · 2:13 pm

LETTER TO THE YOUNG AMONG US

Photo by Frank Cone on Pexels.com

Rain has ceased her assault for now,

broken records shattered faith 

in weather patterns, and how!

Streets flooded and gardens submerged.

Waves above plants crested and surged.

Climate change shows the fruitless folly

of distracted senses unable to observe

nothing that matters more

then destructive weather battering the door.

Mother Nature refuses to give up on us,

On Earth’s survival and our own.

She bellows and blows

to drive her message home.

The nihilism of our young is no surprise

as they watch all they knew of truth and honor die.

The hopefulness of youth also decries

the callow acceptance of loss

by ancient leaders who fail to count the cost

as their years surmount their reason

in their final season.

Time to allow youth its voice

and watch them lead us forward

to a better choice.

Allow youth to set aside 

the greedy old clinging to their wealth;

as if wealth, not life, is the real prize.

Stay strong young sons and daughters.

These old bones are counting on you

to laugh and love, to plant and grow

a world much better than we have left behind.

I salute you and offer you

all the wisdom you can unwind

from old codgers 

with weak limbs, but loving minds.

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June 5, 2022 · 3:13 pm

PENTECOST IN THE GARDEN

No tongues of fire descend 
upon the garden where all is taught
by unseen tongues of Spirit
renewing the earth again and again
and again, in the constant flow of grace
upon the garden’s sacred space.
The garden teaches all we need to know
to bless the firmament below
the heavenly eons of space.
For centuries upon centuries it has been so.
But, now, no single tongue of fire
but a barrage of flame grows higher and higher
singeing petals as they unfurl to blistered beauty
and charring roots buried below
the surface of our understanding
as children are destroyed by overheated
need for power and greed.
Pentecost, indeed! our prayers rise up
as our Hope ascends, promising rebirth
to take His place as Spirit descends.
Will we listen to the warnings from the NOAA
that 1% of the wealthiest emit more than twice
the amount of CO2 as the poorest 50% of humanity?
Greed holds the reins of Spirit as it descends.
To believe the 1% will change voluntarily is inanity.
The garden waits and hopes for gentle rain
to end the drought of human concern
for a return to saner policies to make our gardens grow
with abundant Grace to stem the flow of hunger,
poverty and fear. For more shade from trees
grown strong enough to handle any breeze
and create a safe space to put down our guns;
and, provide a place for all to wander in peace
with greater love and harmony.
This the garden teaches, from the first to the last.
Spirit renews the earth only if we let it.
We cannot simply let the moments pass.

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May 28, 2022 · 12:05 am

KILLING OUR CHILDREN

The garden is awash in earths tears, 

unleashed by climate change fears,

carried on gusts of wind beating down

on an already soaked ground

where drenched petals now lie spent.

The sky cried for days, nothing really new.

But now she cries for others, too;

not only herself as her rhythms are torn loose.

She cries for miles of wounded souls

across America’s fields of woe

as Americans try to cope with the pain

of children ignored, wounded and slain.

Guns locked and loaded against all

who are not white men with moneyed eyes

which blind their view of progressive skies

opened to all that is bright and new;

like children who seek to grow up wise,

appreciating every new experience

as an exploration of greater happiness.

Even childlike innocence is not enough 

to save the lives of little ones

when war is waged by hopeless men

preyed upon by sellers of guns

who magnify phony fears for profit

and ratings and votes.

Earth and I have come undone,

hopes dampened by clouds of tears

hiding the sun. Each child a flower

mown down, unable to run to safety.

Not one.

Not a single one.

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May 21, 2022 · 10:53 am

IN THE GARDEN WITH FRIENDS

It is not just the poppy that addicts.

All flowers do to those 

who make gardens grow.

Over rocky , stubbled fields

replacing weeds with scented folds

of roses petaled

in circled fashion we all know.

Flowers call our names

even when we know not theirs,

from rows and rows and rows

of nurseried plants shouting aloud

“Take me home. Take me home!”

So many languages flowers speak.

Gardeners yearn to learn them all,

each one part of a diverse melody

which sings a siren’s song.

The garden is a symphony

of chords and rhythms strong

enough to carry feet along 

new paths from dawn to dusk

to worlds unknown beyond.

Strong enough to lift up all 

who wander through the varied colors,

kissed by bees and butterflies

taking us along on a joyous ride

to the one place for which we long.

A place of unity and uncommon beauty

freed from wilderness, our wildness tamed;

and fear buried beneath the soil

where it belongs.

Like flowers, in gardens we reach for the sun

and welcome the rain to quench our thirst

for freedom, friendship and mirth.

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April 30, 2022 · 11:10 am

FADING DAFFODILS

The daffodils and I are fading.

Our tulip friends who bloomed later not far behind.

The  bright colors once so gaily waving

in gentle sun now unwind

the cord which seemed to hold back

warmer days and nights; the cord which holds back time.

Clouds continue to place a sack

over Sun’s greater insights of reason and rhyme,

sleeping still too many hours

to bring the garden fully back

to life.

What is it in the soul that yearns

for Spring in Winter and Summer in Spring?

How to live in the moment I’ve yet to learn.

Around and around the seasons I go,

seeking to learn just one more thing.

When I shall stop nobody knows.

Until then I shall dance and sing

among the flowers which in my garden grow.

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April 21, 2022 · 12:58 pm

DARK DAYS

Is this enough for you,

these coldly dreary days

when dew frost bites

flowers bold enough

to brave the threats

of a winter not quite through?

Snow waits above 

the sky’s borders high

and falls with icy rain in tow

to warming earth down below.

Climate knows not 

which way to go.

She is confused and changeable,

grief-stricken and unreliable,

searching for freedom

amidst the rubble and dark skies,

bringing tears to those-who-love’s eyes.

This is no Arab Spring

where hope can grow.

This is a tethered Spring

driven along by bullying winds

daring anything to grow

or even survive in Mariupol,

now Finland and Sweden, too.

This is a dark cloud eclipsing the sun

where once democracy could freely run.

Is this enough for you;

or too much to bear a moment longer,

wishing we could be as brave as Ukrainians

and so much stronger ?

Is this enough for you ?

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