My default compulsion is to check the
computer for any sense of connection and
seeing what the distant world is finding
joyful and noteworthy
But today I broke free and strapped on 
my boots, choosing to march solemnly toward
a forgotten love and the garden welcomed
me wholeheartedly as I pulled and gnawed
at the surface, massaging her tired muscles,
digging to remove the knotted masses of clay
and old roots and filling her anew with
lost plants wedged under lilies and 
tucked in hidden corners
Breathe, Garden! Breathe, me!
Welcome Sun and Rain and Birdsong to
keep company with this garden. And for now,
I stay here to find my community in Soil
and Weed and Insect and tweet about my work
completed, happy with heuchera joy
and pinks pleasure and hydrangea happiness

The squirrel chatters above my head
littering my papers with his house-
cleaning debris while the bird, whose
name I don't know (let's face it, 
I only know about 5) talks and 
talks to some unseen or otherwise mute
neighbour or maybe he's talking to 
himself
and slowly
oh so slowly
the angry words and rehearsed
confrontations I play over in my
mind momentarily become quieter,
like that far-away dog's barking or
the dishes clattering in that house
over there and things get quiet
enough for me, finally, to hear
the Breath of my breath