In the early frosted morning sunshine of our love
we laid the groundwork for a garden
the foundations and the walls, the borders of the beds,
a classical explosion of trusting sturdy boxwoods,
bright perennials, risky annuals
their bulbs entrusted to this fertile soil.
Flowers of exotic derivation
and those of timeless grace flourish
leaf to leaf, petals touching stamens
as we dig, plant, tending, cheek to cheek, our love.
Each new planting an experience, and
each new shared experience the planting,
a new species, a new bright blossom introduced into our garden.
We grow our garden fresh and bright,
encouraging deep roots
they demand less maintenance.
Boundaries and borders so cleanly laid
blur with the comfort of time.
Inevitable weeds blow in, over strong walls.
Even Eden needed weeding, and the
comfortable passage of years proves our garden
no exception. Still in all,
the rest are out, and we are in.
Each weed our weed, each thorn our thorn;
this is once and always our place,
our space to tend, sacred and secret,
this garden of our love.