I can only write what I see.
Today bountiful waking to trees out my windows early daylight,
Husband's arm about my side.
Rise for Kenya tea, strong and black.
Lashings of rain? Late season blooms or yellowing leaves?
Dew on the meadow or warmth on the deck?
Every day too much scrolling,
Too much news; too many ideas not mine, no matter how creative.
So, in early September swimming ends the day.
First sit by the pool . . .
But oh, the mint needs a drink, oregano too, and basil;
The pot plants, impatiens and begonia, salvia red and white,
Creeping Jenny thirsty too. I'm coming, I say.
Spreading rosemary, lavender flowers, fine with the heat;
The yucca, lantana red and orange all happy.
Day lilies, ivy happy too.
My garden is wild, not tended but intended (as nature said one day).
My life has been long, why is that on my mind?
Because, I see fullness, bounty, beauty.
Mint in my lemonade, oregano in my pasta,
Rosemary on my potatoes, basil in my greens.
Root the begonia, gather wood for Fall.
Savor, always savor as only age can do.
If you have age you know that too.
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