With my hands
I planted this wild ginger
Until it bloomed
All throughout the year
With my fingers
I cut the pink blossoms
Green leaves and more
Tended to my lovely garden
With my heart
I arranged a simple bouquet
For my kitchen table
Where we eat and play
So that my loved ones
Would enjoy a lovely scent
A thing of beauty
An afternoon well spent
At home.
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For Poets United : Thursday Think Tank
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For Poets United : Thursday Think Tank
I love the sacredness of this doing
ReplyDeletelovely words
Oh yes, I didn't think of it as sacred. But now that you mentioned it, I do tend to my garden fervently.
DeleteIt is quite obvious your heart overflows with love ..
ReplyDeleteThat's the nicest thing anyone has said about me from my poetry. Thank you Helen...
DeleteIt's the simplest of things that shows the greatest love.
ReplyDeleteIt took me some decades to understand this, but yes, you are absolutely right. Thank you.
DeleteOh so lovely, both poem and wild ginger.........such a beautiful and exotic plant. So much love in the tending, of plant and family, and in the poetry.......
ReplyDeleteDear dear Sherry. Most people cook the wild ginger and my friends are flabbergasted that I use it as a flower arrangement. But they are lovely, aren't they?
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely air of peace pervades your poem!
ReplyDeleteThank you ! It is a sanctuary after a tiring day...
DeleteFeelin all warm & cozy now, thanks for the read
ReplyDeletea joy forever....thank you.
ReplyDeleteThank you Rhonda.
Deletemmm bet it was lovely and smelled good too...nice when you know you played a part in it as well....
ReplyDeleteYes Brian. Apart from the obvious pleasure, the gardening provides me my only (almost) regular exercise.
Delete