May I have this dance//please?

When we had to leave our house, God put us
in a garden – with a million wondrous plants
We ate chard for eight weeks straight, ribwort and wild marjoram, I sit

in a giant pile of currants as the berry season starts,
weighing and dividing them in plastic bags
All winter, as grey clouds hang curtain-heavy from the sky,
I bake currant cake &every bite sparks
sunshine on my tongue

The compost pile yAWns, stretching slightly, he’s a
sleeping giant, dark&Heavy eye lids sinking deep into the lawn,
sun flowers Rise cheeky from his fingertips// He breathes
in his own rhythm, friend with nematodes, protozoa, flatworms, earwigs, shy to light,
a hidden cosmos with its own agenda, grass still soft/ &moist with dew,

I pick raspberries for breakfast,
sit down on the bench beside the pond, a midwife to the dragon fly
that slowly peels out of her old cracked suit, clinging to a sea rose leaf and
let her wings dry in the breeze— with a

heavy aching heart, we pull out zucchini plants, their leaves
a mess of crinkled, yellow mosaic,
cut ‘em up and put them in the rubbish bin
“You have to disinfect the knife” my neighbour says
“otherwise the virus spreads” ——-I harvest

tons of kale all winter from ten tiny dwarf-like seedlings that grow into giants,
overnight// in spring they change their clothes from deep/green
to a bright and yellow party dress to feed the bees/ they are eCstaTic!

&i’m in a pool of sunlight, sweaty, dirty knees & hands,
added to this ever changing circle//for a moment
breathless, awe-filled witness

to their dance

I’m hosting poetics over at dVerse today. Theme is garden/ing. Come and join us in the 10 year anniversary celebration! Post goes live at 3pm EST

And hey… my most loved garden inhabitant is actually the gigantic compost pile… not very romantic, I know – haha – but he’s a gentleman… and he’s got his mysteries… smiles

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35 responses to “May I have this dance//please?

  1. Alas…what little garden I had has been eaten by the critters…who are like us all just trying to survive…enjoyed you verse my friend.

  2. I love this poem that gives life to those things in Nature that people do not give a second thought, much less a glance as they walk their paths in live. Take good care, Claudia.

  3. Forget about The Secret Garden, I want to lose myself in Claudia’s Magic Garden. If I were still blogging, I would reblog this in a heartbeat.
    Now back to my reforesting research…

  4. Lovely. There is something spiritual about putting yourself, your hands in that process of creation and recreation. Nice personification of the compost pile. I love sunflowers. So bright. We had dinner with a couple on Sunday that had a vase of sunflowers on the table. You put me right there. Now pass the berries. I love berries too. 🙂

  5. Such stunning verse with amazing figurative imagery. Your writing is immersing, and I especially adore these lines:

    “I pick raspberries for breakfast,
    sit down on the bench beside the pond, a midwife to the dragon fly…”

    I love it. ❤️❤️

  6. Oh, I wish I had a garden where things would grow like that. I would love to have currants, in winter, but I do have my woodland instead, and it’s less work.

    It sounds like the new house came with excellent perks… and I do believe I could transform into a gardener…

  7. This is exquisitely drawn! I especially admire; “I pick raspberries for breakfast, sit down on the bench beside the pond, a midwife to the dragon fly that slowly peels out of her old cracked suit, clinging to a sea rose leaf and let her wings dry in the breeze.”💝💝

  8. An enjoyable post witnessing the changing seasons in your garden Claudia. I so love: &every bite sparks
    sunshine on my tongue
    and that taste of currants, blackberries, chard, raspberries, zuchinnis….

    And of course, always the awe about nature:

    awe-filled witness
    to their dance

    Thanks for hosting!!!

  9. I like you covering all of the bases of the garden environment. Whenever the compost heap is included it makes me happy. Must have been neat to see the dragonfly crawl out of its shell!

  10. Oh what glorious lines
    “ I pick raspberries for breakfast,
    sit down on the bench beside the pond, a midwife to the dragon fly
    that slowly peels out of her old cracked suit, clinging to a sea rose leaf and
    let her wings dry in the breeze”
    Your garden is as stunning as your words ☺️💕🌺

  11. I love that you’ve done the gardening version of Charlie & the Chocolate Factory. ❤

    These are my favorites:

    “I bake currant cake &every bite sparks”

    “friend with nematodes, protozoa, flatworms, earwigs, shy to light,
    a hidden cosmos with its own agenda”

    “midwife to the dragon fly”

    “they change their clothes from deep/green
    to a bright and yellow party dress”

  12. I will never look at a compost pile the same way again. I can SEE him – wearing sunglasses, enigmatic, nonchalantly churning out the goodies. This poem takes me back to the huge garden I tended when my kids were young. We grew everything! Loved this poem!

  13. Beautiful poem and thank you for the prompt which prompted me to scrub my hands and participate. I just made raspberry jam (the knees of my jeans red and damp) and the chard is coming on so this really spoke to me.
    btw I love your use of caps. Fun!

  14. Reminds me of when my husband and i started our life together, There were avocado, and guavas, and poinsettias which readdened magnicicently for December Christmases. Oh but that’s a long time ago story.

    happy Tuesday

    Much💜love

  15. my sister, a professional gardener, has me reading California Foraging, so each morning with my blueberries and granola I learn something new – like, Douglas Fir needles can be made into tea. As for sitting among the dance in a garden – really, is there anything better?

    It’s good to read you again, Claudia ~

  16. SMiles Dear Claudia
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    And How Far Those

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  17. I’m in a pool of sunlight, sweaty, dirty knees & hands,
    added to this ever-changing circle//for a moment
    breathless, awe-filled witness to their dance

    Love this act of participation as a bystander to witness the whole range of dances but breathless witnessing them. Thanks for hosting Claudia!

    Hank

  18. Thank you for hosting, thank you for ‘gifting’ us this poem. I live in a row of eleven town homes … we have a compost pile .. no garden .. scratching my head.

  19. Wow. So much attention to detail, so much variety, but I think what most touches my heart is the heart in the tending and the sorrow at the loss of the zucchini harvest. My mother-in-law lost all three of her tomato plants she had lovingly tended to each day. It broke her heart. So, I feel for you with the zucchini.

    BTW thank you for this great prompt. What a treasure it has been to read through the great array of poems, see all the beautiful photos and be reminded of so much beauty. It does the heart good. Like medicine.