The garden will take care of you
if you take care of it,
And is this not the main crop —
your care —
coaxed from you by tender shoots,
arising in your midnight tossings
as you hope your seeds
will sprout robust, and thrive?

So sweetly is the care returned
by bud and bloom
and the sharp taste,
almost stinging on your tongue,
of cress, and last year’s kale,
and dandelion

We are one in our need
to drink the sun,
to draw earth’s water up
in succulent oblation
and to offer
our greening and fruition
to the sky

We will learn this breath,
this song of our being,
in every place we care.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 23, 2014