Care

The garden will take care of you

if you take care of it,

And is this not the main crop —

your care —

coaxed from you by tender shoots,

arising in your midnight tossings

as you hope your seeds

will sprout robust, and thrive?

So sweetly is the care returned

by bud and bloom

and the sharp taste,

almost stinging on your tongue,

of cress, and last year’s kale,

and dandelion

We are one in our need

to drink the sun,

to draw earth’s water up 

in succulent oblation

and to offer

our greening and fruition

to the sky

We will learn this breath,

this song of our being,

in every place we care.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 23, 2014