Read by Matilda Longbottom

 

 
Frost threatens.
Leaves cascade in free fall.
Summer flowers fade, 
and the last of the hummingbirds 
are long gone.
 
You find yourself
wrestling the banana plant,
its broad leaves clinging to
the doorframe in protest.
 
The herb garden begs 
for decisions.
What to harvest,
what to mulch,
what to bring in for the Winter.
 
One last look at the parsley, hoping
for a chrysalis or two,
a little package of hope
to offer sanctuary till Spring.
 
The garden gnome is moved
indoors, fragile as he is,
with his graying beard.
And the garden fairy, too,
for no good reason
other than a little bit of grace.
 
And finally,
you meet the Buddha 
under the hickory tree,
lift him to your hip
and carry him into the garage. 

So that one Winter day,
while fetching the snow shovel,
you will see him,
and remember, breathe.
You’ll lift your face 
to the snow, lose yourself
in its infinite silence and 
simply be. ❖