A Prayer for the Native Garden
May the work be slow and gentle,
in harmony with the song of the land,
sung in water flows
and spring blossoms,
played into paths by the children,
conversant with the visions
and mistakes
of the past.
May the process be cultivated
and never forced,
listening
for what is native
and natural
to grow through the bramble
planted long ago,
before we knew
what tangled messes
we could so easily weave.
May we plant seeds
where they want to grow,
waiting and watching
year upon year,
as the flowering shoots
teach us
in their absence,
and grace us
in their presence,
with endless new beginnings.
May the right roots
grow deep
in the right soils,
sheltered
just long enough,
and watered
never too much.
And when the land is passed on,
may the seed bank be rich,
so that what has been buried
beneath the fever of lifetimes
may peek up to surprise them
with the beauty that
together we nurtured,
long ago
and deep within.