Sacred Gardens Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Intimacy, mystic like the land
Perfume rich with apple orchards
We are not vacuums
Romance needs setting
Flowers grow like little angels
Fields flow in the mysterious wind
Fires crackle with oak, pine and birch
We share the rivers and the sea

You are history and wars
Sacred blood
Tribes and immigrants
Dreams of many generations
I am the song of the forest
The migrating birds
We are the tree rings of dreams
We share the stars on the water

Bring out the old photos
My fathers purple heart
Your mothers wedding dress
We are grain and wheat
We are the sorrow and the rain
We are the moon out the window
Our souls sing the song of the land
We are the centuries amidst the ghosts

Our lips kiss sacred gardens