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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Comments (2)
Good one❤️😉📝❗
This is a beautifully written poem! I also really relate to gardening as a respite.