Sacred Garden

Beckoning, drawing me into its greenery,
The Garden entices me through its invisible veil
To stand on sacred, magical, faerie ground,
In the midst of the profane world.

The tomato vines entwine around their stakes.
The oil of tomato leaves perfume my hands.
Unripe fruit hide in the tangled green,
Slowly, slowly bathing in the sunlight.

I tread lightly among the broad leaf cucumbers
Crawling along the floor, inching upon the vines,
Invisible fruit among the vines,
Hidden quietly under the leaves.

All around me is a jungle of greenery:
Secret  carrots and unknown onions,
Green beans, long and bulging,
Green peppers, full and shining.

As I explore the garden, row by row,
I sense, but cannot see, the leaves
Turning towards me,
I sense, but cannot see, the fruit
Looking towards me.

The Garden, alive with ripening fruit,
Knows that I am among it,
Pulling at my roots.
Flowing nourishment into me.

I behold vanishingly,
Through a closing Otherworldly portal,
Queen Mab woven into the vines
In the arms of the Green Man.

The Garden's Soul, fecund green,
Breathes all about me,
Ethereal and gossamer breeze,
Moist and sunny soil.

Pulling up my roots
I pass back through the veil,
Back into the profane life
With my soul tinted with Green.

©2010 John A. Mills