Journey to Your Deepest Self

What There Isn’t and What There Is

There is no deep forest
to explore

No high desert
chalky sunset colors
purple and peach

No great expanse of lawn
dotted with morning deer

No gardener’s palette
and beyond
a creek or
the staying summer sea

There is only a yard
surrounded by a decrepit fence
creaking in the night breeze
a hole dug for a pond
full of weeds
a few tomatoes

But the winter compost is
rich, black and hot
and steams through the frosty day

And the children still come here
to play.


2 Responses to “What There Isn’t and What There Is”

  1. John says:

    Thanks Kathleen, very nicely moody. And transporting. I believe I may be in the yard now, feeling the frosty air and smelling the rich, black and hot compost…

  2. Kathleen says:

    Thanks John. I love that we both share an appreciation for moodiness.

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