Sunday, February 26, 2012

the mountains to wash over me

attack, then strategic retreat

I love to attack:
to take the moments given me
so that I might do,
and change what is to what should be,

this winter I’ve fertilized, pruned,













bedded my blueberries and asparagus,








leaved and tilled the garden
until microbial bliss stirs within it,








made a renewed flower bed,
half-hidden from the barbarian hordes or deer,








started my tomatoes inside to ready for high summer,








I’ve pulled off hard weeks of helping kids learn
and making sure a great play can wow audience & cast,








now as the crocus I planted late fall jewel our yard,









I finish plans for a great day of science in the middle school:























space for open doors through which students are drawn
to where those who have chosen such careers
offer some of what the discipline and joy of science
has offered them and that they want to share,

I write this as I am in the midst of parent-teacher conferences,
within which we joy in how well the kids are doing
and in what we can do to make sure
the doing keeps getting done,

and next week I plan to retreat to the mountains
and I hope to let them wash over me like the rain over them,
so that what makes me who I am
can feel anew like a waterfall replenished from above.









by Henry H. Walker
February 25, ’12

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