I sit in my garden very quietly
and listen to the wind’s ancient breath.
I could sit here for hours,
my life’s purpose fulfilled.
What richness nature hides
behind the veil of inattention,
So many tiny living beings
to observe and love.
There is Sebastian the spider,
who you thought was icky first
but has slowly grown on you,
observing his tireless work
of spinning and waiting.
There are the bees caressing the flowers,
humming their working song.
At twilight the bright yellow flowers close their petals,
only to open them again with the sun’s first kiss.
What a miracle, if you really think about it.
I sit in my garden to pay attention, to hold
all beings tenderly in my gaze.
What is homemaking but caressing and
tenderly loving the small world that surrounds you
with your bare, assuring human hands?