We Begin in the Garden

synchronized chaos: plan behind the wild

a garden is

a tricky Thing

most see mine

                          as Chaos—

a lot of thought

has been put into

                              my chaos.

epilogue:

last year’s dead growth

mingling with the youth

                                         of wild spring shoots

how i love your juxtaposition:

the old giving way

but not before

                          nourishing the new.

between 2 worlds: life of a H₂O droplet

water droplet

growing

heavy

trickling

down

          a window

                            pane

                  meandering

                                   to where

                                 only you might

                                                                know

                                 stopping/starting

                                      deciding: left or right

                       bumping into sibling

                                                   droplets

                         they hitch a ride

                                                     on you

                                                              & you

                                                        carry them

                                                down

                                     to where

                                               the pane ends:

a new life begins

                     leaving behind a diluted trail

               a

              long snake

                that

              coalesces

                before

            breaking

                 into

                a

                 succession

                 of

                   water

                droplets

                   your

                children

                    dappled

                looking in/looking out

                     ready

                        for

the next generation.

ode to the ageless

i’m not good

    at being older

i’m too old

                    for that—

‘So take off your thirsty boots

And stay for a while’

                                    —Eric Andersen

and when we die

and when we die

it’s the soul we miss

it held the body

we knew so well.