garden song

There are wooden garden steps in sets of three, descending slowly down to the deepest part of the backyard. i spent countless days sitting on those steps staring at the sky. there is a tree in the neighbors yard that is a black locust. it creates a silhouette almost like an African acacia, so i would imagine that it was, and that the sun was setting on the serengeti and not in the suburbs. why i imagined i was anywhere else is now mysterious.

the grass is coarse and brown now, the ferns have expired, trees have left us because of disease but it is still essentially beautiful. i know that grass intimately, a cartwheel brings you close to it, your bare feet touch it, then each hand and you trust that it will ease any fall.

the white pine still stands regally on the side of the yard, creating its unique needle mulch in the space underneath it. its branches were like a ladder asking to be climbed. but once you did you could not stop and you were both amazingly proud and afraid when you reached the top. sap all over your hands.

i am not sure what will happen to their yard, it begs to be reborn and i hope that it is someday and that children play there again. it is the best place for a child to play and they will need no other companion.

this post was inspired by the npr song of the day. click on the title "garden song" for link.