The Garden Guest

Gaia has entered my garden today,
She moves with a rustling of leaves.
I can see her pass where the branches sway,
I can feel her breath on the breeze.

She laughs in the splashing of water,
And she sings in the hawk’s plaintive cry,
And as Mother, she comforts her daughter
In the hush of a dove’s lullaby.

Her presence is rich in the garden today,
Like the heady perfumes of her flowers,
As they lift their delicate faces to pray
In the beams of sunlit bowers.

And her trees have become a cathedral,
As their trunks, in a grey-marbled hue,
Become pillars and arches primeval
Reaching up toward a ceiling of blue.

And the garden has shown its true owner today,
For I am but the gardener and guest.
When my Visit has ended I’ll go on my way
Knowing well that this world has been blessed.

 

Songs of a Day

As I muddle my way through a regular day,
And my feeling of weariness grows,
I am riddled with blue in an indigo hue
And a dark fog around me that shows.
But my garden is where I can work in fresh air,
And my blues turn a rosier shade;
As I clip and I rake, with each breath that I take,
All that dullness inside starts to fade.

And the song of my heart bubbles up like a spring,
And my shadows are lifted and lightly take wing.
As my body starts swaying, I quietly sing
And I feel a connectedness to everything…

At the dimming of day, as I’m tapping away
At the keyboard that sits on my desk,
I am caught by the sight of the setting sun’s light
And a view that is quite picturesque.
In that moment I find there’s no work in my mind,
Just the view that is waiting outside,
And I’m crossing the floor to the sliding glass door,
And I eagerly open it wide.

And the song of my soul rushes in on the breeze
Like the rippling of water and wind in the trees,
And it cleanses my mind as it fills me with ease
Rising up from the ground through my feet and my knees…

So I head up the hill with a need to fulfill,
To see more of this glorious sky,
With its crimson and pink, and that spun glass I think
Must be cirrus clouds streaming up high.
When I get to the top I turn ‘round and I stop,
Stricken dumb by the beauty I see:
Lilac hills touched with green, and a gold sun between
Slipping into a molten-glass sea.

And the songs of my ancestors hum in my bones,
With sharp clapping rhythms and resonant tones,
With high ululations and deep-throated moans
That sing to the sky and the trees and the stones…

Strolling back to my house, insignificant mouse
That I am on this marvelous world,
I am blessed with the sight, as we all are each night,
Of the stars and the darkness unfurled.
As cerulean blue turns a deep midnight hue,
I can seek out our faithful north star,
And as diamonds are spread in the bowl overhead,
I am struck by how lucky we are.

And the song of the universe tumbles through space
Full of beauty and power, rhythm and grace,
And the light is its voice as it sings through each place
And it spills from the sky to my uplifted face…

As this day finds its end, I must ponder again
All that glumness I felt at its start,
And how rarely we see all this real majesty
That can fill and restore every heart.
And this earth, oh this Earth! The bright world of our birth
Is a miracle in every way.
As contentment runs deep, I am lulled into sleep
By the lingering songs of the day.

 

Lorna Davis is a poet who is happily retired and living in California.

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6 Responses

      • Eliana Scott-Thoennes

        I’m using two of your poems (November and Buyer’s Remorse) for a unit I’m doing with my 7th grade son and am trying to put together an index of authors that includes a photo, birth date, and nationality.

        Is there any chance you might have a website or other location that would have that? (Or, even bigger ask, be willing to share those with me privately?)

        Either way, thank you so much!

  2. Joan Carol Fullmore

    I just read your SONGS OF A DAY for the first time this morning – it was published in a paper I picked up last evening – The Epoch Times. I had never seen this publication before.

    This poem is a feast for the eyes ears and soul. Read aloud it actually changes one’s chemistry and fills each pore with gratitude. This is truly a Masterpiece. Bravo!!!

    I write poetry too that rhymes and was beginning to think it was a joy of the past.
    I retired from corporate America 12 years ago to full time care for my now 95 years young mother. Caring for her has inspired many of my poems for sure! 🙂

    Reply
    • Lorna Davis

      Thank you so much, Joan. It was so kind of you to take the time to come here and let me know that you liked my poem. I’m delighted that you enjoyed it. Best wishes to you and your mother. 🙂

      Reply

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