The frantic, morning pace has ended.
She gazes proudly at the vigorous growth in her children’s gardens,
established and on their own now,
no longer needing her constant attention,
The satisfaction becomes a growing discontent
as she realizes,
the intense dependency is over.
She, the nurturer of gardeners,
finds that waiting only to give advice
not enough to fill her afternoon.
And so, time stretches out in barren, emptiness.
A quiet, piercing voice commands,
“Look to your own garden.”
Turning around, she begins her excuses;
“I was too busy and too tired.”
concluding she declares,
“Its not much of a garden anyway.”.
The voice is understanding, but firm,
“Daughter, I gave you this good spot of earth.
What have you done with it?”
Contrite, she begins to weed
finding some delicate flowers yet alive
under the tangle of neglect.
As she waters with time,
and nurtures with love,
Her garden thrives with an intense beauty.
At last, she has come to appreciate the
quiet glow of her own afternoon.