Coming home, the porch light is already on
The back yard is my temple, my sacred space
I am the priestess of pruning, invoking hummingbirds
Bees and ravens, a choir of leaves whispering
Dappled sunlight stains the grass
The clerestory of my personal cathedral
My vision of heaven on earth is here
I examine roots and bulbs, rose hips and passion vine
Inviting my teachers, cats, beetles, spiders and snakes
To teach me their ways of quiet contentment
I kneel in the dirt, grit under my praying hands
Pulling out my negative thoughts, planting seeds of change
Finding wisdom in watering, irrigating my soul
The deep peace of sweeping the deck yet again
Paying attention to the dusky hues, rising moon
I am planting my future now by enjoying the present moment
Breathing in the jasmine, I am not alone but all one
Here with my self, grateful for being the creatrix
Open to the mysteries as the night unfurls
Moving back inside to simply make soup
Supping on a blessed life, I break my own bread.
Blessed be.
