The Garden…

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Wandering around inside my mind,

A garden holds memories.

Each a blade of grass,

a leaf,

an insect buzzing one of many flowers.

 

To white walls and loving eyes we are brought into this world,

where unseen hands tend new experience

that thrusts instantly towards the open clear skies.

Our minds lush with planted beliefs and seeded memory,

and fed by the warm light of laughter

or the cool rains of gray days, they flourish and spread,

or curl and become distant.

 

And for a time we sit, and hold our ground,

stake out our spot on the grass amidst the Trembling Aspens and shout out to the world,

our place.

But as we lay back and look up at the leaves shimmering in the wind and sun we wonder,

how much of this garden

is truly

our own.

Wading…

She stands at waters edge, leaning into the cool morning air…waiting for him to return. Stepping onto the dock and into the sun, she can hear water lapping and birds in the trees across the lake, their calls echoing over the still water. ¬†Snapping turtles rest on a partially submerged log, wary of passing boats and the bullfrog croaks loudly from some reeds to her left and she wonders if they really do taste like chicken like she’d heard. The smell of burning Alder wood hangs in the air and reminds her of, those days.

He wades back into her thoughts. Hands pressed to her lips, then open palms towards winters lake.

He’s been gone too long…

Frozen Lake and Dock