Tulips gossip downtown
in streets curved in frowns.
Too many people
walk dogs, legs lifting –
tulips don’t want a drink,
of that kind, I think. Continue reading
Tag Archives: Garden
To a Daughter
Wild mornings, wild afternoons!
If I am with you
your face alight
your laugh in my hair Continue reading
Lily of the Valley
stained glass frames
white bells, here and gone,
nature’s embroidery Continue reading
Strawberry Patch
Leaves of three and
white petals
foretell the fruit. Continue reading
See Pink
For anyone in need of a little PINK today!
Is there a fairy hiding behind there? I can’t say. 😉
Who are You?
I prefer tea.
I prefer rain to drought.
I prefer quiet to parties.
I prefer gardens in the centers of cities
where I can lay on my back and imagine flying with birds.
I prefer to feel than to be numb.
I prefer grief to forgetting.
I prefer dragon to draggin’ and phoenix to flames.
I prefer the golden rule.
I prefer chocolate to anything else
except passion and a lover’s approval.
I prefer to worship love than hate.
I prefer wildflower meadows
to gardens sliced by boxwood canyons.
I prefer to build rather than tear down.
I prefer the rhetoric of peace but cannot abide genocide.
I prefer mystery to someone’s else certainty.
I prefer to go unnoticed by Murphy’s Law.
I prefer happy to perfect and joyful to tidy.
I prefer to melt in the rain
than to send out flying monkeys.
I prefer books to movies except the Lord of Rings.
I prefer walking to gyms.
I prefer children laughing to silence.
I prefer silence to rage.
I prefer rage to despair.
I prefer to share despair than to turn away.
I prefer to look for magic rather than
ranting about its absence.
I prefer poetry to newspapers.
I prefer humble to Trump-eting.
Who are you?
Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: I was inspired to write this list poem by The Drift Record post celebrating Possibilities, a poem by Nobel-prize winning poet Wislawa Szymborska. When I understood who she was, I better understood myself.
I also put this up in honor of Women’s History Month and World Poetry Day (Monday). Please feel free to write your own preferences and link up here, there or everywhere. Or put yours in the comments. Have a magical weekend!
Purple Sage
fragrant leaves
rough with musky spice
song of summer
Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This is a good-bye to my herb garden, which spiced my soups and stews this summer and fall. Pictured are two varieties of purple sage, which are not culinary. I also grow lavender, green sage, thyme, oregano, basil, parsley, tarragon, mint, chives and rosemary. When my herb garden goes dormant for winter, I’ll be waiting for spring. Only the basil and rosemary won’t come back.
Harvest Song
No cellophane or styrofoam
enclose vegetables that
ripen with deep roots in loam.
But tomatoes need attention
from sunshine and gardener —
saving seeds is an obsession.
A good soaking for the seed
then planting in warm soil —
water, fertilize, stake and weed.
Year after year, they grow
Are they fruit or vegetable?
They’re silent. They don’t know.
Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: I harvested the last of my tomatoes before the recent frost. They were a poor crop this year. Free roaming turkeys ate most of my garden. Ten roost in the maple outside my bedroom window, nearly invisible, except when coming or going.
Fairy Dust Haibun
To step amongst giant phlox, rudbeckia and Russian sage is to enter a suburban fairyland, a small oasis surrounded by the desert of houses, concrete and asphalt.
meadow blooms
sharp fragrance intoxicates
fingers sap-sticky
Goldfinches feast on spiky echinacea seeds, while redheaded woodpeckers knock on fence posts. Sparrows dart under eaves. Day lilies bob, and a rabbit emerges from the grassy leaves, smug and plump. The gardener is the majordomo.
crickets stir
hundreds of insects hum
spiders spin
A shady spot provides a view of an apple tree, too young to bear fruit. At its feet, the profusion of jeweled blossoms is blinding. Magic floats past in the sunbeams. Time slows to this one perfect moment.
Fairy dust gilds bees and
sparkles on flower petals.
Dragonflies hover
like hummingbirds,
held aloft by magic
or science
or faith.
Sudden breezes
bring a rainstorm
of fairy dust,
dried to pollen
by the hazy sun,
solar fast.
But even magic
cannot make summer last.
Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: A haibun is a Japanese form of prose alternating with poetry, often haiku. It’s often a recollection of one’s day, in present tense. A few moments in a garden, and suburbia drops away. These photos and memories are from Bronxville, New York, where I happily helped a friend celebrate his 60th birthday. Bronxville is a village of Westchester County, part of the Tri-State Area that surrounds New York City. People commute to Manhattan in half an hour. Have a magical weekend!
Ode to Baby Kale
Tiny green fans,
For cooling a sprite,
A nibble for children:
A snack to delight.
First, soaked as seed,
Then planted in soil,
Watered and lit from above,
Sprouted into a tiny coil.
Two oval leaves
Reached for the light,
Edges becoming scalloped
With veins of bright white.
Baby green kale,
Planted between sage,
Chives and thyme,
Becomes an herbal mage,
With the power
Of flavor and health,
Until devoured by rabbits
With predawn stealth.
Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This ode is to my baby kale, photographed prior to devastation by bunnies, insatiable little beasts. They seem to prefer the things I grow from seed to any clover or sweet grass. They never eat my chives.
Happy Earth Day!
Earth has everything we need. Let it be enough for us all.
May you find the magic in the earth today and every day!
Warmly, Brenda
Note: Sorry this is late, but I spent today in the garden with my kids. My son whose foot is broken managed to rake up the soil where our water access was replumbed. And then he scattered grass seed like a champ. I hope you found a good way to celebrate!
Dragon Spines
In my mind’s eye, I see them fly:
Spiny leaves become dragons on high.
They chase my dreams in the moonlight
Following dust devils up out of sight.
Day comes, catching them in the sky.
They sleep like puppies, and so do I.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Friendly Fairy Tales 
