Garden Meditation

I sit in my garden this mild September morning,
a gentle sun warming my cheek,
a slight breeze stirring the leaves
of the avocado tree above my head
and I am calm as a stone.
I sink into the sights and sounds of this beauty.
Nearby, a bird shrills; a passing plane adds its basso note,
growing fainter as it leaves the scene.
All the plants and trees of the garden,
orchestrated by a fresh gust of wind,
take up the chorus.
The slanted sunlight dances with its shadows
on every flower and leaf.

And as I write, everything is changing.
It’s warmer now. The air is different, dryer.
The light and shadow dance has moved
further into the garden.
Smells I was unaware of before rise
from the damp bricks beneath my feet.
A winged creature, a species unknown to me,
lights on my page,
its transparent wings trembling.

There is no need to hold on to any bit of it.
Its reality is that it is passing, as I am.
But today it did not pass unnoticed.

Poem & Photo by Barbara Wolf (2007)