A Dog Who Loves Flowers

Luke
a poem by Mary Oliver


I had a dog
who loved flowers.
Briskly she went
through the fields,

yet paused
for the honeysuckle
or the rose,
her dark head

and her wet nose
touching
the face
of every one

with its petals
of silk
with its fragrance
rising

into the air
where the bees,
their bodies
heavy with pollen

hovered -
and easily
she adored
every blossom

not in the serious
careful way
that we choose
this blossom or that blossom

the way we praise or don't praise -
the way we love
or don't love -
but the way

we long to be -
that happy
in the heaven of earth -
that wild, that loving.

That Garden is Gone

I was so happy to see that the garden behind the church has been demolished.

Odd words from a meditative gardener, i know. Here's the back story:
My sweetie belonged to a tiny church that was living on its endowment and failing to make ends meet. Three ladies installed a garden in the back yard of the church. In that garden they planted some beautiful invasives--burning bush, honeysuckle, and purple loosestrife.

I offered to buy the plants from them if they would take them out. "They're invasives!" i said. (I planned to destroy the plants.)
"Oh, we'll keep an eye on them," said one of the church ladies.

The church closed its doors a few years later, due to lack of money. It was bought by the town's historical society, and, by this time, the back yard garden was unkempt and overgrown.

Fortunately, the building became an arts venue for concerts and plays. It received several grants to improve the falling-apart, paint-peeling church. In the process of adding a "green room" behind the stage (the former altar), the garden of invasives was destroyed.

We too think we can live with and control or at least contain various bad habits--drinking, talking about people behind their back, overspending, living on our credit card. But those unskillful actions pollute our minds. It really is better to root out those unwise actions now, while we have the energy and the clear vision to see the long-term effects on our very own karma.

Because, one day, we too, like the church and the garden behind it, will be gone.