A girl sitting on a foldable chair on a rocky riverbank, surrounded by lush green trees, with the sun setting behind a forested hill in the distance.

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.