Waxing Lyrical: On A Personal Note

Waxing lyrical about me,

In a corner of the garden where foliage grows thick, where vines ramble,

Twisting and weaving: on the way to the top

Then back down.

Here, obscuring thorns, sometimes even roses,

There are more weeds,

Perhaps, because it is left to me and I am no expert,

I reach, I get pricked.

There is blood.

Here, I love tinkering

With herbs and flowers and dreaming in the shade,

From giant, gnarled branches, strong;

Fruits fall:

Sweet!

Somehow I’ve landed,

Protected and free,

Fruits and fragrance, enjoying,

Just being me.

Here, I am blessed,

Many-a-traveler and gardener arrive,

Bringing plants and compost,

Enriching.

Though sometimes worms and bugs come crawling,

From manure,

I am learning the way:

Putting fertilizer to use;

Working-in, burying-deep.

Slow as it seems, sprouts do grow,

Little by little pushing through to the sun,

Thriving,

Here in my corner, waxing lyrical,

We meet.

Now that you know my place,

Let’s run and laugh and drink tea in the shade;

Together let’s soar ever higher.

Shall we?