Gardener at Heart - Book One

In The Forest Of Possibilities


I came to crossroads in the woods

And stopped to think my choices out,

And each road lay in sun and shade

Like lazy dogs and rainbow trout;

I looked and hummed and scratched and stood

But could not tell which way was best;

The crossroads made a charming glade,

So I sat down to think and rest.

To give up, as I thought, for good

One road to choose the other one

Was what I meant to contemplate,

But stopped before I had begun.

A bird streaked paint across the woods;

A gleaming beetle mapped a leaf;

A spider strung a harp and played

A song that insects might believe;

Then something zig-zagged through the woods

And came and hovered, eye to eye,

And landed, and aligned its blades:

A freshly painted dragonfly,

So close to me that I could look

At all the etching on its wings,

Its hand-carved back with stars inlaid—

Who needs a muse who has this thing?

It sprang, as light as if it took

More work to tether to a twig;

I jumped up, too, with lesser grace,

And tried to chase each zag and zig—

To get yet closer if I could—

By turns it vanished, then it flashed—

By turns I had to stop and wait,

Then hurry after as it passed—

And then it zoomed up, gone for good,

And left me like a dreamer there.

Behind me was the little glade;

Ahead a road curved on somewhere.

I figured out just where I stood:

I’d come far up the right-hand way,

So I went on through sun and shade;

I said, “This road will be okay.”


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