The Brief Intimacy Of Time

The intimately encouraging
hand of the sun
on my back,
my own hands 
moving feverishly
with anticipation into
the warm dark moisture
of my garden's soil
I recall these yearly rituals
affirming the endless cycle
of life sustaining itself
with a little help
from friends. I have a
trusted compact with
nature, allowing me the
conceit of aiding her design
inviting colour, fragrance
texture and sublime beauty
to arise with stately
aplomb in my very own
Eden, where birds rest
and sing and I am permitted
this illusion of the 
transitory mirage of time.