What's Left of my Parent's Garden

The morning rain

calls out my name

to run and play

like a child again.

 

The dew drops

on the blades of grass

sprinkled forth

like looking glasses.

 

Set about the garden gate

where alas

waits the snake

a simple garter is all

it is-

nothing to fear or dread.

 

But into our enchanted land

of flowers and herbs

I continue on

a handstand

might do the trick

to ease my mind

of these adult

musings

that keep me busy most of the day

and so I do it

no matter who is watching me.

 

Luckily, I'm on my own

among the birds and insects alike

I tend the meditative garden

then rest in place on my back

slowly placing each body part asleep

from toes to crown

to mediate once more

among the herbs and flowers

my mother and father swore

they'd tend forever.

 

But now they are in seperate places

and it is only me

left to find the garden

in disarray

and these damn ilanthus

trees springing up with

raspberry weed amongst

the herbs and flowers

I remember so well

from my little kid days.

 

Once relaxed

I collect some herbs

for healing elixirs

and run and play

in the grass once again

letting the child within

me leap and grin

at the beauty of the day-

smelling all the flowers

that have decided to stay

within our enchanted garden

even though some of this growth

is obscene

I'll grow up quick

go get a stick

or reaper's bough

and beat them back

and let our family's

herbs and flowers

shine forth

once more.