Roann Mendriq

Barefeet in the earth

My Mother tends her garden,
just like she tends a child;
Her flowers bloom in sweet profusion,
Joyfull, never wild.

Kneeling beneath the arbour,
she tends her rosy prizes;
Dad sits upon his deck chair,
He gently supervises.

And there I was all spruced up,
dressed up to the hilt;
Mind and heart so weary,
Tears dried, already spilt.

Mum glanced at me and knew at once.
She called me to her side;
One silent smile within her eyes,
No need to speak, confide.

My fancy heels were kicked off;
without a backward glance;
I knelt down in the open earth,
So grateful for the chance.

We dug, we pruned, we weeded,
Earth splattered on my dress;
My stockings laddered, ruined,
My nails a muddy mess.

My heart was gently healing,
in this company serene;
Playing in the earth again,
surrounded by sweet green.

Nature has her healing ways,
We only have to choose,
Love and Service are the keys,
not ridiculously high heeled shoes...

Submitted: Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, August 28, 2013

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