A Deliberate Life

I will take this path, then,
bare, leading to not quite austere,
not quite bereft, not quite alone

I will take what coin I have to spend,
my allotment of time as human,
beyond the artifice of men

And I will be mine own Thoreau,
take pleasure in my own garden,
the sound of stone on my own hoe

I will watch, and I will ponder
as seasons begin and seasons end,
and then again and again

I will wonder how trees
feel about wind, if it depends
on the measure of storm

And I will cleave to the earth
where I will grow—like all
to return when I end

photo credit: Crystal Sands