Monday, October 24, 2011

This Coming Home

Living on this little Farm
and growing our own food,
has given 
stunning views,
I should take by the hand
anyone willing
to walk with me
carefully through what 
it means to grow 
food that nourishes our lives,
to experience the cycles of Nature
up close and primal. 
Modern life 
attempts to disconnect us 
from that.
Producing food we eat
is an up and down experience.
We have successes,
not so successes.
We continually 
visit how very small 
we are.
One holds 
that small seed in hand,
prepares soil,
plants when time is right,
nurtures and protects 
that tender yet vibrant living organism,
celebrates and is in awe 
at its growth,
watches how intimately bound 
that plant upon which we depend 
is dependent 
upon whims 
of this place,
holds the harvest at the other end,
feels the warming glow inside 
announcing "I am fed",
feels the presence and nurturing 
of a Force far greater than myself.
It isn't like 
picking out produce 
at the grocery store.
And while you are 
beside me,
we would  
hold and smell the soil,
hear birds in colorful cloaks sing,
watch butterflies dance,
follow a toad on the path 
the toad only takes,
smell and feel nourishing rain,
join other humans 
who want to learn and grow.
It's innately familiar,
this coming home.
Glinda Crawford, 2011

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