Did I say I love the field, the flowers, the garden
I tend, and my working hands for tending? Did I
Suggest I love these thoroughly, with single-focus,
Tending not also to the noise of thought, to the
Red rage and roses at once,
Anxious body drifting in and out of its
Caring?
This is all I have to offer to the world,
It isn’t much: hands that give despite myself. An
Offering of kindness. Pruning and watering.
Noticing what I can.
About the Creator
t.r.h. blue
torri r.h. blue is a writer, poet, artist, photographer, and advocate. She writes poetry from West Michigan, where she lives with her wife, Alex, and their son Auden.
www.notesontheway.com
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Seeds of Tomorrow
In the heart of what was once a sprawling metropolis now lay the flourishing city of Arcadia, a beacon of hope and sustainability in a world scarred by environmental degradation. Towering skyscrapers, adorned with lush vertical gardens, reached towards the azure sky, while vibrant greenery carpeted the streets below. Solar panels and wind turbines adorned rooftops, harnessing the sun and wind to power the city's gleaming infrastructure.
By IBRAHIM AHMAD6 days ago in Poets
Comments (2)
Good one❤️😉📝❗
This is a beautifully written poem! I also really relate to gardening as a respite.