I keep thinking about
your yellow gardening hat
and the way you used to tip
the olive green watering can over
ever-so-slightly
so the water would
splash my head --
to help me grow,
you said.
And I can almost hear
your sweet, strong voice
say my name when I walked
into your room and surprised you
even though
I think you always expected me,
somehow --
I hear your delight,
even now.
Oh, I haven't had a tea party in ages
but I remember how
to make a proper pot
and how to hold it
as I pour
and how you
take [took] your tea --
and not just becase
you take [took] it like me.
hope (v.)
ReplyDeleteO.E. hopian "wish, expect, look forward (to something)," of unknown origin, a general North Sea Germanic word (cf. O.Fris. hopia, M.L.G., M.Du., Du. hopen; M.H.G. hoffen "to hope," borrowed from Low German). Some suggest a connection with hop (v.) on the notion of "leaping in expectation" [Klein]. Related: Hoped; hoping.
Yes! Do you see why I used that as part of the title?
DeleteI couldn't figure out how to e-mail through this thing, but I wanted to send this over, so ppht.
ReplyDeleteThe Lord’s Gardener’s Prayer
Lord, I don’t know if I’ve been to your home,
But I hope I have.
I’ve seen on earth some hard turf,
But in a while a garden,
Kept and steady. In the wild
A fruiting vine, from the earth. Climbing.
Well,
Sometimes on a dark night I manage a good dream,
Where a wheat field in a summer wind
Sounds like it’s singing . . .
Well,
If you’re the one who made that part of me,
That part of earth,
Those in-betweens—
Then you don’t need to call.
I’ll go with you.
Lord, make me a gardener,
Short and dirty,
Worrisome and meek—
And you can keep the arthritis!
And the old knees.
Not like I’ll need ’em long—but I need ’em now!
But I used ’em up
On the ground.
Just like my dignity.
Course, you taught me that,
Lord. I went to war with the weeds.
Just like those leaf-footed bugs,
Lord! You gotta think like a slug
If you want to eat.
And, Lord, I don’t need to grow eight wings
Or a flashy soul or burn my lips on a hot coal . . .
I’ll grow weak to the earth,
And strong to sin. Take my tired eyes, Lord,
And make them vigilant,
That no worm dies by my hand and survives no red spider mite.
So I can eat, and my family eats,
And my neighbors eat besides me.
And bury my talent in a field someday,
And I will rise.
I hope they have weeds in Heaven,
Because if the wheat really do sing
Then maybe you won’t need that choir,
But you’d still need me.
Because what I have is yours,
Put yours in mine,
Together, braid my hopes
To the promise of heaven,
The rain and the sunshine,
For eternal seasons by and by, Lord,
By and by,
Amen.
Christopher, I really enjoyed this! Thanks for sharing! It's a new favorite for me, I think! :)
Delete