Archive for childhood
A man crosses the street in rain,
stepping gently, looking two times north and south,
because his son is asleep on his shoulder.
No car must splash him.
No car drive too near to his shadow.
This man carries the world’s most sensitive cargo
but he’s not marked.
Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,
HANDLE WITH CARE.
His ear fills up with breathing.
He hears the hum of a boy’s dream
deep inside him.
We’re not going to be able
to live in this world
if we’re not willing to do what he’s doing
with one another.
The road will only be wide.
The rain will never stop falling.
My garden is a bit haphazard, true to my ADD nature. First, I started out with great plans but ended up throwing seeds where they might land, forgetting where they were planted, watering everything I could in hopes that they would remember what I had set them out to do.
I over planted tomatoes and zucchini. I didn’t plant anything else. Besides wildflower mix. Better to walk before you run, I say.
In the summer of 2012, I stalked Dunga Brook’s gardens with my iPhone and its wondrous *Olloclip attachment.
I lost track of time as I took photograph after photograph of the tiny little things that made my childhood so dreamlike.
Through this haphazard gardening and photography, I reconnected to the flora and the fauna closest to my feet and dearest to my heart.
I can’t wait for summer to come again, can you?
If you’d like to buy a copy of this photograph, please do and thank you!