My Ancient Gardener

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Green-thumbed God,
my ancient gardener,
I spread my branches
to treat you to shade
so we can talk.

My relationship to you
has been ambiguous.
I have always shivered
under your pruning knife,
but I have lapped up
your watering.

I was hurt that you
did not protect me
from the destructive winds,
but I trust your accurate eye
to design my future shape.
I rest in your dream of me.

I will reward your quiet murmurings
(encouraging me to grow)
by pushing up another shoot.

Before the cold of winter,
I will throw myself into magnificence
that will take your breath away.
I will be flowing gold,
transparent yellow,
I will be sun behind shifting sun
in every leaf.

Can you hear that I talk to you
through colors?
Are you listening to the love prayers
of my leaves?

~ Ulrich Schaffer

Photos at Pinterest

4 thoughts on “My Ancient Gardener

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