The Gardener Returns

 The Gardener Returns

I left the garden long ago,  

Thinking it would wilt and fade,  

But life, like rivers, finds a way,  

Even when my hands have strayed.

The weeds and blooms entwined as one,  

No judgment in their untamed sprawl,  

And here, I thought to prune the mess,  

Yet find the wildness says it all.

The soil remembers what I’ve sown,  

Each seed, a hope, now standing tall,  

And though I thought it needed me,  

I see now—it’s the other way around.

For I’ve returned not to control,  

But to listen to the earth’s soft hum,  

To feel the pulse beneath my feet,  

And know my journey’s just begun.

The rows may bend, the vines may twist,  

But in their chaos, I belong—  

The garden grows, both it and I,  

Together, wild, together strong.

This poem captures the essence of returning to a familiar space, not to impose order, but to find wisdom in the wild and the unpredictable. It reflects growth, both in the garden and in the gardener, as they come to appreciate the beauty in letting go.