It was a wabi-sabi sort of day last weekend, when I met with poetry friends for a garden ginko. We took some time to slow down, walk around a winter garden, and notice the textures of foliage, stone and wood.
Camellias, jonquils, and other rarer blooms we couldn’t name were there for the keen-eyed poet to discover.
In these moments of reflection, we may have also learnt something about ourselves.
that once held the weekly wash
now cradle spring bulbs
. . . each day I find
a new skill to master