Morning in the Garden.

I’ve never written as prolifically as I did here on OD. Now that I have access to it again, it makes me want to try once more. I literally have a degree in this, but apparently, this tenuous connection to my 15-year-old self is integral to the process. So, I’m going to take this stroke of inspiration to edit and workshop some of my recent work.

It’s the crisp coolness of the morning
and the lullaby of the brook nearby
that lulls me into this feeling of placidness

My separateness fades and sloughs off in pieces
My barriers become less striking
I belong to more, I welcome more

In this garden, in this morning
I am softened and polished
the irises and maples welcome me

I exhale and let my breath fall, settling to the ground
I leisurely and patiently sink into the earth
The pond frogs’ croaks matching my slowed heartbeat

I close my eyes and imagine this calmness is forever
The temperature remains fixed and so do my feet
I close my fists around dirt and hold on