Walking through
the garden
in late evening
when the sun
slides behind
the hills and
its rays
spill over
small slits of gold
in patterns
across the ground
transports me
back across
the years touching
each summer
leading up to now,
planting seeds
and weeding
and watching
and waiting.
I carefully place
my feet between
the rows of
and kale,
and beets
and basil.
Breathing in the
sweetness of
tilled dirt
and growing plants,
the cool air heavy
with dew, I soak in
those moments
with my feet
on the earth
and my head
playing memories
stretched across
my days.