Summer Growth

I wake this morning listening to rain, thinking about shears I left in the garden — such a little worry. Dry the tool off and put it back on the shelf.

My younger daughter is home again — two weeks away, and I didn’t recognize her from the back. It wasn’t simply that she wore a shirt I didn’t recognize. I was looking for  little girl — how she’s imprinted in my mind — when she’s nearly all caught up to her sister. Here they are, scavenging in another’s garden.

All the way I have come
all the way I am going
here in the summer field

—Buson

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Craftsbury, Vermont

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