The garden’s planted.
In the middle of this city we
celebrate one more season of the old ways,
grooming the earth and gathering
bright green food.
May we remember to teach our children
mostly what’s obvious,
the simple relations of hand and soil,
and may they remind us season after season
of the garden’s first truth:
that all things grow to unique goodness uniquely
if you give them some space,
if you don’t bother them too much.
-- an old poem by Phil James