Things to Do When You Are in the Process of Being Grown Again

Let the sun brew your tea.  Sip it later sitting on the
porch with frost resistant pansies enjoying your company.
Teach your daughter how to dig a hole and plant blackberries, so she can hope for some sweetness down the road, too.
And when you find Ila's garlic, which you'd planted
in your mother's garden two years ago before you left for Georgia, give
thanks that sometimes your past follows you wherever
you go.
Marvel at light.
And how the seeds are lifted into their form under it.
Believe that this is happening to you, too.
How do they know to do this?  How can I become
myself this easily?  Under the light.
Let clothespins hide in the pocket of your apron and your hair
go crazy in the wind.
Let slow.  Let sun.  Let wind.  Let light and shadow.
Accept the gift of help from your parents and the dirt
hauled from the family farm to fill your raised beds.
Let her run barefoot as she has each year when you
walk the rows and paths that will spell radish, carrot,
beet.
Let her shine.
Press your boots into the mellow soil and mark your
rows and paths.  Leave a mark.  Don't be afraid to do this.
Love your mother in a hat sipping cherry juice
and reading while you plant your whole life
in the light of this love.

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