The Garden

   
The heat is immense; I'm watering the garden's San Andreas Fault    
line separating the corn and sunflowers; filling the deep crevice    
of its mouth with water faster than it can swallow, watching it    
collapse into itself; dryness asphyxiating slowly on the moisture.    
   
The whole world is leaning toward this hose, grasping with limp  
leafy fingers; pumping life through gorging roots until their throats    
overflow and pool at the base of dripping stalks. I pinch dying Marigolds    
to make room for new blooms; their pungent death stains my fingertips.    
   
Pull weeds by the roots, opening muddy soil. My bare fingers, wet    
with anticipation wait no longer, plunge into the warm earth    
drenched with water and gently burrow through the dirt, grasping  
becoming roots to something inside of me flourishing to maturity.    
   
The Agave franzosinii is an evergreen originating from the wilds  
of Mexico; its yellow flowers can take over 40 years to blossom;    
a spectacular sight before imminent collapse under its own weight.    
I smile when I think of that; how beauty is worth waiting and dying for.    
   
Just like the wedding rehearsal I shot tonight for a happy aging couple.    
Sometimes it takes a lifetime to grow before spreading your seeds.    
All the lives and plants who wait so patiently for their plane; or boat    
without losing faith or hope in an unknown moment that may never be.  
   
My fingers have become settled and home in the dirt, my wrist like an    
olive stem breaches the surface. I turn the hose to myself, and drink...    
   
~