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I am growing a garden of weeds,
into which, at times,
I cast vegetable seeds that will nourish my family.

Today, I am picking weeds
in this endless cycle of man vs. plant.
Man conquers, but, for a short moment in time.
For the plant always breaks through soil and
one day soon will cover our graves.

The thunder and rain push me beneath the shelter.
Plants flourish in this environment.
I am grateful for this liquid magic gold.
For a few moments,
bees, hummingbirds and butterflies suspend their movements.
Then, the mesmerizing dance
of fertilization and reproduction continues.

The thick rain pelters the red-flowered bee balm.
One by one the petals fall to the soil.
They are my favorite flower,
medicinal they say.
Magically, one flower appears
through and on top of the bottom flower.

It is the role I savor.
Savior of earth.
Keeper at the gate of the garden.
out from which Adam was tossed.

Woodstock, New York
May, 2010