11.29.13 Even In Winter, I Hear The Garden Singing

I can't pick flowers. 

I can grow them. For them. 

And insects. And birds. And butterflies. And caterpillars.

 And hummingbirds. 

Just the way it is. 

I can water them. And mulch them. And take care of their diseases.

 And fertilize them. And sit with them. And get to know them.

I can lie in the grass

 and watch the sunflowers' faces

 slowly magically 

turn as the sun makes

 Its way across the sky.

But when frost is imminent, 

I can harvest them.

 I can cut them 

and dry them 

or turn them into 

herbal tinctures or oils.

But I don't cut them and bring them in the house

 and arrange them and enjoy them.

Maybe it's like being a vegetarian.

 It's not about right and  wrong .

It's just not the thing for me.

Even in my house, 

even in my sleep,

 even in the winter,

 I hear the garden singing.