I am teaching my children to make lemonade.
How to add the sweet to the tart.
How to praise lemons,
though they might sting the tongue.
I am teaching my children to draw themselves space.
How to harness the mind’s affinity
for the building of palaces.
How to expand the sun from an edge of canvas,
to illuminate the whole stretch
with a layering of light.
And my children teach me as I tend towards forgetfulness.
That life is the garden that we establish
from seeds.
And my children teach me as I incline towards introspection.
That nothing is so serious
as to dissuade joy’s appearance.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
September 2021