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Garden Song

 

 

She brought me flowers, one for each day

For the sun, the moon and the wind at play.

When the music of earth touched their faces

Their singing could only be heard

By hands that worked sweet mother earth.

She brought me flowers, one for each day

For the sun, the moon and the wind at play

From her garden that has faded from view

Now stored in memories that I treasure

This eternal garden of my mother's.

 

Joyce Kasanonkwas Sundheim 1993

 

 

 

 

 

     This poem was inspired by my mother's love of the earth and gardening.  

An indelible vision I have is of a circle of land some eight feet round filled

with bobbing flower heads of many hues.  I remember the heavenly blue

bachelor buttons, orange marigolds, red zinnias, and purple asters.  I see

her strong hands as she works lovingly and methodically, tilling the soil

and planting the seeds.  No store-bought transplants in those days of my

youth.  Also remembered are the vivid greens of the vegetable plot. There

were succulent lettuce leaves, emerald green cucumbers, and spiraling

squash vines.  Feathery carrot tops and waving corn tassels all called for

the attention of the gardener.  These endeavors by  "ma mere" to add beauty to the land and at the same time provide fresh vegetables for the family gave

her the highest pleasure and satisfaction.  It does the same for me.  

Monet's Garden
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