start each day with a walking meditation
       cool dew on my feet and the air of a new day
around me, rabbits munch
          grass and clover, robins pull worms from the earth              

slip on garden clogs to make the rounds
             assess the needs of each plant  

water the basil, rub its leaves
        the aroma calling up fresh mozzarella and summer tomatoes
the ferns tell me they are fine from last week’s rain and to move on  

new lilies nod in greeting
      their deep orange cups with purple centers have opened overnight  

deadhead the daisies, cut back
    my mound of petite white geraniums as I have done
          for 20 years, water deeply, await the new flowering  

Indian Pinks take me by surprise
  6 red tubes, each flaring into a yellow star, purchased
         on sale at the end of last season and until this week presumed  dead
weed a bit to help them along

finger the flopping lamb’s ear
       its soft leaves as tender as any person I have known
together we sit back and take in birdsong

year after year this garden and I nurture each other
          it has had its losses, as have I
this bond holds fast