We are already shifting towards the harvest. I am going out today and picking all the peppers and I will pickle them for the winter.
lady soap maker went out one day
to see if her garden grew
she picked all the veggies and the cucumbers and onions too. the garlic, the juicy redness and meaty tomatoes and she sang them a lullaby too. They love that. She thinks they care about her.
The days grow short and mid day gets hot and the nights are crispy cool
condensation adorning each new bud..they will not make it.
you want them to
you both cry
take a deep breath
and here here is where hope makes its preparation
where minding what is real becomes easy
where clean up is beautiful and everything you touch becomes more gorgeous each day
where sparkling light makes you seem that way because your thoughts have transformed you in to this moment
your face so peaceful
you close your eyes and breath in all the good, your body tension leaves you and you can accept what you have here and now..right now..
and yet like a sweet just forming bud, too late in summer, knowing this , accepts and yet demands true space in space..your face is adorned in the same way..each line be it deep or just forming.
lady soapie went out one day and knew her garden would grow
she put in the time
her hands dirty and sweat glistening in the sun
there is no way it wouldn't, you know
life is a garden you hands and the things you touch your fruit..I want sweet juicy ones
and now here is my real poem
lingers in my garden
its sweet little teeth taking sweet little bites from my tomatoes
He leaves little tooth marks on each one that is not ripe
he goes for the juicy the sweet and the ones I would keep
he dug a tunnel right under one such fruit
he just ate from his front door
he begs for my pardon
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