The Spirit of My Garden

(for Aruba)

In a corner of my garden my soul grows.

Full stems, dark leaves, my golden-blond-

reddish-in-the-sun fur, blooms into Marigolds.

A marigold from my altar, tipped back by a breeze

took a tumble, crown first then came down stem first

into a pot gaping, calling my name, swallowed me.

My spirit, like a salmon up stream, flowed

into the rich soil.

Still the guardian of my terrain, hard to teach

an old dog new tricks, my scent lingers.

My garden companions, the aguacate tree,

bananas,veggies. Mis amigas,

up to their usual tricks, prance about, chase

each other, harass alley cats and lounge in my radiance.

I see their tails wag, I sway in glee, early

in the mornings our Doña corrals them, our strong pack

still walks the streets.  


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