Poems in the Garden

I don't have my paints, so all I have are words.

A Haiku:

The green sits, stiller

than I. Calms what stirs in me

Give in to this law.

A poem, which I tried to turn into a sonnet, but rhyming, when it comes from me, makes every word sound so forced and formulated.

Green dusk still so, too, still but echoes of forces stir

Tear through the sacred silence but those sounds  cannot break this calm

This gift that comes from nowhere else

But a few moments of stillness

Even echoes of chaos contribute their perfect voices, perfection at no cost

And the massive blades hold fast against the exhale of the setting sun
And even the birds are not nervous

And even the clinking car heaves do not break this

Curved ones. Thin ones. 

Do not bough

But stand

Amidst all the sounds of human triviality

Stand and curve and grow in indifference but still pride

They are there when we need them, for a time

Show us their green give us their fruit

Unseen, unfathomable intimacy
 in the connection of branch to branch

Indifferent but giving

Most people don’t understand that