I’m letting the root rot open to the air.
holding the shovel at bay,
not ready (yet) for the tender hug
of mulch.
Dirt under the fingernails for days.
The smallest of shifts felt
while I trace a line
between self-indulgence, fertilizer,
and truthful, detached seeing-
walking the rows at sunrise.
The birds’ songs and chirps
an invitation to now
to breath
to exposure of even the slightest
inkling of maladjustment,
browning leaves
wilting old growth –
(loved
even so
on her way out).
Meeting needs
as they arise
in the garden outside
and the garden within
is enough.
The world is allowed to die back,
so paradise (undergrowth) can be exposed.
Life as Improv 
The tomato plants and I are both in a holding pattern, indoors until it’s safe to come out. Me with my books and WP, they in a window of the sun room. I’m not overly ambitious. “Meeting needs / as they arise / in the garden outside / and the garden within / is enough.” Those lines spoke to me, assuaged my lazy guilt. Thank you, Marga T. 🙂
Love BEing with you here,JJ, beyond any notion of laze or guilt – inside and out, as the conditions indicate. Hope spring is peeking at you, around the corner! x! m
Beautiful Marga. The last sentence says it all.
Alison
Allison and Don,
Hope the dying back and growing up new are unfolding well in your corner of the world. Think of you often, as my far-flung tribe, close and far at once. xx! m
All is well in our corner. Chuckle, I learn first hand I can’t control people ROFL. Life sends joys and lessons and joyous lessons. The inner world slowly dies, and blooms. Both at the same time.
Yes – close and far at once. xox
A.
The darkness of that soil, where death comes to life again and again, so rich. I think you understand seasons so well.
the raininess has me chasing powdery mildew. guess who is winning…hope you are well my friend.