He shapes the 2x12 The perfect length. Using stakes, he secures Four sides, four corners, All neatly held in place. A space for soil, amendments, minerals and bone meal Creating a health-filled space for our perfect growth. With strength of hands and fingers, Holes are dug, In which more amendments are offered, Before we are gently placed within, Culminating with a dusting of Earthen Goodness. Add water and voila! We are safely housed and fully fed. She moistens our surroundings daily Sometimes even twice-a-day During the warm season As we are thirsty little ones. Seeing our neighbors tall and strong Gives us faith in our own maturation As we recover from the upheaval Of potted to Earthen home. We see her practicing. Presence, she knows, Is all that is Real. We feel the willfulness of her mind As she succumbs to the weight From thoughts of the list of countless things That must be done. She quiets her mind With the recognition that thoughts are things. She realizes it is a choice To attach or let ‘em go! The task list reappears In the mind’s eye. She consciously chooses to feel the sun Upon her bare shoulders and nape of neck, Bringing her to the only place that is Real The Now moment. But that list of must-be-dones Persists loud in the mind. Again, She recognizes the choice: To be present Or to be lost in illusion. She makes the choice To behold the beauty of the babes, Acknowledging they know just what they need do To grow strong under her daily care. She feels the hard ground Upon the soles of her feet Along the narrow walkway between the beds of verdant green. Now, what about that list? She feels the trade wind upon her skin Prompting for conscious awareness once again. Oh, but that list! The ego continues to re-mind. The soul knows All will be done. The ego shouts, “NOW! All must be done now!” The soul waits patiently for the tantrum to pass, For awake awareness to resume. She chooses presence As she embraces the Beauty, As aliveness permeates, As health-filled soil feeds, As bicoastal views pervade, As Q’uo, the Magical Owl, mascots, As hens cluck for garden scraps, As Earth turns away from setting sun, As clouds that only Haleakala can muster Weave across the azure sky, All with the knowing that diversity heals, Organic matters, And, nurturance is key. She finds she is a parent again, with thoughts of Perhaps, this time she can get it right! She tends daily With strides that nurture. She feels us call For the Love she has denied, For she knew not then What she cognizes now. She embraces the parental role Of care, responsibility, and unconditional love, Of responding when called, Of tending with consistency, Of presence, In which she recognizes All that she was Has made her who she is today. She would not change a thing As she comes to a place Of Forgiveness, Forgiveness of the self For not being there When others needed her most. These are the Blessons She has chosen To become the one she is Today. We grow tall. We grow strong. We grow abundantly. We ask to be harvested For those who appreciate our nourishing ways. Our wish is to be fully utilized, By those receptive to the Goodness we imbue. Our greatest desire Is to be wholly in service To those enJoying our fruits. Come one, come all, Come celebrate the beauty of the Mother! Through us she gives and honours The humans coming to the Realization Of Who They Are!