I finally got the opportunity to sift through some photos from my day in the gardens.
The beauty of this place is hard to capture in words. Even these don’t come close to capturing the feeling of being present in this magnificent place.
Sweet aroma of life come forth for us to know you.
Sweet dust of day cover us so we can forget ourselves.
Sweet silence of night let us fiddle with the absence of dialogue.
I say goodnight.
I say goodnight to hesitation asking it to greet the atmosphere
in its demise.
I say goodnight to monotonous ideas
awakened restless, elderly in destiny.
I say goodnight because you have spoken of passionate touch
and I can wait until tomorrow.
we have all been uprooted from familiar (even if only in the mind)
I say goodnight to you,
lone, wild, the iris in purple screams
ripe with sun
she says goodnight, sleep well monotony
encourage the herrings to run
upstream
the hesitant folk are nostalgic for their insanity
as am I
this is where I sleep with memories
the colorful day, hopeful for colorful dreams
I say goodnight to you, the one who reminds me of purple
and painted lips
so bright next to the blackbird even with her eyes closed.
I hear the birds softly sing on the outskirts of the square
children have given them reason to become neighbors
handmade houses filled with seeds
beckoning the arrival of this menagerie
the winged activity of the blue jays
the cardinals, the onslaught of humble sparrows
I seldom remember to think outside my quiet chaos
beyond my awareness lies the hidden
secrets invisible to suspicious eyes
how much all of us can see
how much all of us can understand if given the choice
children—build for us
families and birdhouses and roofs above our heads
food on our tables
then show us where we hide.
Pink horizon of morning,
We call it hope in the wakening sky.
The distance in possession of touchable memories,
Far away but tangible to the awakened eye.
Images roll past, the grasp of the ever-clouded mind.
I must remember more at these junctures.
The coming of Spring is not far behind.
Embrace abandon with these young apparitions.
We are teachers and students discovering life.
Living through the ground as hesitant ghosts,
Revisiting the woods and the sky.
Let us uncover slowly the secrets of Spring,
Enchanted, the days pass us by.
Aroma of life has now stricken us numb,
The cabbage of the season has partnered with the skunk.
What irony the marriage of these two of a kind,
the most pungent babies of Spring.
Curious creations, after the heaviest of snow,
I accept the curiosity of life and envelope the unknown.
I must remember more at these junctures.
Remind me again, sweet aroma of Spring.
Pink horizon of morning, you are ahead of me now.
Walk onward. We will find it. The coming of Spring.
Time came with the birds this morning.
The light gave them permission to speak.
And they told us to wait for the answer,
From the quiet voice of Spring.
Oh, harmony of the gathering.
Oh, life of the voice.
When you come together on these mornings,
You remind us only of choice.
And then we question whether to open the door,
And let our voices sing.
Should we let the pain of Winter be known?
And welcome the reminder of Spring?
Where are the signs of life?
They are in the thawing of our pain.
If we are quiet, if we are listening,
Our birds will surely sing.
They know when our ears are open.
They were waiting patiently for us, too.
Our ears are what give them the power,
And they are reminded of the truth.
On this morning, I felt you listening.
I felt your strength with mine.
For, I watched the singers gather,
And I watched these birds take flight.
The power of their unison will surely change the world.
Just listen quietly, they are singing.
Their harmony is our truth.
Kate Houck, Poems 