Breaking Ground
the grass freshly cut
the shovel chopping through the crust of
earth
breaking ground
for each forsythia
each a living thing
after divining the spot
glances over my shoulder at the late
afternoon sun
and then turning my head
imagining the arc of the sun
come up in the morning
some sweat on my forehead
a sting in the corner of my eye
and back into the task at hand
by a hollowing to secure
their places in this world
each a living thing
and with those three grounded now
I turn to the butterfly bush
the impulse buy
and with each spade of earth
I think of butterflies and hummingbirds
that may delight a child
may delight the child in me
Ruminations
Yes, the cup was broken,
then mended.
Yes, the cup was empty,
then filled.
From the well of your goodness,
I drank.
Deep, the cup.
Deeper, the well.
In you I am
a swimmer in a pool of cool, deep water.
Deep, the water.
Cool, the water.
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