green magic

for Jadwiga

Thoughts naturally move to you
as I weed my garden. I think of
your love of plants and your protection
of innocent wild things,
the unique green magic you wore.

It’s something many people desire,
a green thumb, green fingers,
a trait of yours I deeply admired.
I would often remark to friends about
how you could actually make a stick grow,
your beautiful, witchy way with plants.

I, myself, have never had this touch,
this sacred gift. My gardening skill
was a gift I got from you. More craft
than art, it has always been hit or miss.
A fluke of observation, a learned
labor of love. Skill defined by trial and error.
It was something I tried to absorb
in the times I worked beside you.
Watching the lilies and lupine,
indigo and hydrangea, lilac and
honeysuckle grow under your care
and spread with happy profusion.
For me, gardening has never been
an intuitive trait.

Now a year after your death, your
presence is noticeably missing.
The grass has grown high, the birds
and wildlife absent, the farm
in a serious state of neglect.
Your lush flowerbeds lonely, tangled
and overgrown.

No one is eager to don the mantel
of love and care you wore
protecting your prized creation.
Your green magic has slipped away.
The golden circle you provided gone.
Nature is gradually returning
to its old and native ways weaving in
a returning wildness . And as it moves
it bringing me with it.
How was I to know this would be
your last and finest gift?

c.m.brooks June 15, 2015

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~ by christinambrooks on June 15, 2015.

2 Responses to “green magic”

  1. beautiful

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