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by Janet Granger

"Here, take these," she said,
the thick brogue nearly hiding the words as she
thrust the musky cabbages out to me.
I felt her cool, calm gaze as I took
the gift.

The gesture was ancient,
startling me.
Looking up at her,
I swam into the deep blue depths of her eyes,
into the oceans, back to a distant land.
Turning onto my back to float in the salty waves,
I see hundreds of years of sunny, blue skies.
The sun feeds my soul and I feel my being expand and connect
to all its surroundings, in water and on land,
soaking up the sea and the breeze and the bright promising light.

I looked down at my hands and saw a time when acres of farms
separated communities,
when a neighbor's company was close as kin,
lifeline to the world.

In some forgotten places these green gardens still exist,
tilled lovingly by those who fight off the cacophony of modern obstacles
to remain planted in their history.
They sing the songs of nature, year upon year,
conducting the music of the soil into life for family,
for friends.

"Thank you," I replied, holding the gift close,
and with great care.
She smiled,
turning back to her life.
I turned home,

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Document last modified on: 02/15/1997

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