Robin Gadient

Berkeley,  California, USA

When the world is so loud
In its insistence to pay attention 
And attention is so hard and red,
It becomes hard for me to hear 
My own voice in my head. 
I’m left with echoes and brown. 
It’s going to be the hottest day
Of the week, he says.
I’ll be back, he says. 
I put my pressed flower dreams 
down in inadequate words
To feeling an impossible ratio
And go downstairs to water
My garden where the water
Is needed and I start to see
The way intimacy works. 
It’s the repetitive motion
Of caring, it’s the organic juice
I add to the marigold watering can
It’s knowing my ancestors are near
Near ancestors not far 
From my hesitation to open my arms 
Wide to the possibility of living
Baby steps are needed
Much is to be learned from the plants
The garden
An unlikely guide to making love-
A light brush of a leaf as I move, 
Checking to see how dry the earth is
How much moisture is needed
What needs to go, what died
What’s still living. 
The ginger plants have busted their pots
The old yellow shocking near all that new green
Is that a future stalk poking up?
Here is our magnolia tree you finally 
Gave me finally growing in our own back yard
Marking our time together with exuberance. 
It seems silly to think we have not
Properly learned to love each other
In these 24 years but there’s time
And you’ll be back and I’m able to notice again
The lemon tree is finally thriving.