Today I am planning another garden, a small one on the front porch
so I will not forget how seeds grow, the first sprout gangly and
perfect, inches high, the small leaves glistening at dawn covered
with dew, you know what I mean, this reminds me how it matters keeping
life in mind, how we are the same as the seeds, needing
to grow, healing and walking out in the morning, I go along with this way,
walking steady in the morning sun past the lime trees and the mesquite,
the cactus flower in bloom, rare and white, its petals soft as lilies,
and how I know learning to look close at it teaches me about the earth,
how it is part of all of us, forcing us to be patient, later I’ll map out
a more detailed plan, small as it will be, what pots to buy from Home Depot,
the sunflowers seeds, a few aloe sprigs, this is always a slow process,
sticking with the idea, letting it open up inside me and out as I drink
green tea in a glass cup and eat a small bowl of strawberries. How life
is slow and expansive and at the same time never seems to end,
flowers breaking open in the morning, the first sprout moving up and
out of the dirt when I am still sleeping, dreaming how to find a way
to start over in a new place after so much trouble, hoping I can find
the right poem or flower or path to start again, in my dreams I am
walking on a path and none of it is clear in America but in my life
I am ready to keep trying even in a small way, sitting quietly at first light,
the orange nasturtiums in full bloom, the petals wild like fire
Author Bio:
Charlene Langfur is an organic gardener, a rescued dog advocate, and a Syracuse University Graduate Writing Fellowship holder. Her most recent publications include a series of poems in TIGER MOTH, POETRY LEAVES, GYROSCOPE and forthcoming a series of poems in WEBER-THE CONTEMPORARY WEST and EMERYS.
so I will not forget how seeds grow, the first sprout gangly and
perfect, inches high, the small leaves glistening at dawn covered
with dew, you know what I mean, this reminds me how it matters keeping
life in mind, how we are the same as the seeds, needing
to grow, healing and walking out in the morning, I go along with this way,
walking steady in the morning sun past the lime trees and the mesquite,
the cactus flower in bloom, rare and white, its petals soft as lilies,
and how I know learning to look close at it teaches me about the earth,
how it is part of all of us, forcing us to be patient, later I’ll map out
a more detailed plan, small as it will be, what pots to buy from Home Depot,
the sunflowers seeds, a few aloe sprigs, this is always a slow process,
sticking with the idea, letting it open up inside me and out as I drink
green tea in a glass cup and eat a small bowl of strawberries. How life
is slow and expansive and at the same time never seems to end,
flowers breaking open in the morning, the first sprout moving up and
out of the dirt when I am still sleeping, dreaming how to find a way
to start over in a new place after so much trouble, hoping I can find
the right poem or flower or path to start again, in my dreams I am
walking on a path and none of it is clear in America but in my life
I am ready to keep trying even in a small way, sitting quietly at first light,
the orange nasturtiums in full bloom, the petals wild like fire
Author Bio:
Charlene Langfur is an organic gardener, a rescued dog advocate, and a Syracuse University Graduate Writing Fellowship holder. Her most recent publications include a series of poems in TIGER MOTH, POETRY LEAVES, GYROSCOPE and forthcoming a series of poems in WEBER-THE CONTEMPORARY WEST and EMERYS.
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