Maybe there is a garden in my thoughts.
I know my soul,
in deciding what to do,
will follow the way of light
through the trees,
will seek the singing bird.
Will kneel in the loam and
thank the fallow earth for seeds,
trust the winds.
Yes, there is a garden in my thoughts.
And I learn the seasons
by watching the leaves.
There is no noise
but the breeze brushing the foliage,
the bird’s call,
its forage for food amongst leaf mulch,
the rustling of the
And I realise everything is here,
the spaciousness of life.
The rooted things
that remind us to plant ourselves,
branch out to a shape defined
by who we are,
the replication of cells,
the grace gift, enough.
The pattern of leaves
and the direction of veins –
a path to follow from root to tip.
And the singing bird,
making a home in the universe.
There is a garden in my thoughts.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
‘You are set apart and tucked away for now, in the safety of Shalom rest.
In a monastery, there is a courtyard of herbs and vegetables growing for the community.
You are tending and nurturing a beautiful and yet useful garden sanctuary of the heart, which will bring nourishment not only to you, but also to your family and others.
The time of down-playing your part is over.
The time of giant believing is here. And you are important.
We have been staying at home, and it has felt confounding and confined.
But the irritation in the closed shell of an oyster is working on a pearl.
Under the pale speckled shell of a tiny egg, a bird is forming.
The nest-bound eaglets are preparing for first flight.
The inspiration warms your heart just before you realise you’re ready to try something new. And the doors and windows of your spirit are ready to open….’