I woke up and the clock struck 50 today.
The pink roses my neighbor brought over yesterday are opening. I feel like one of those pink roses.
I am open.
Till, dig, cultivate the earth, offer worms, cut spent blossoms, thin out dead, diseased and damaged stems, pull weeds, fertilize and deep water. I have done this. On my knees, hot sun beating down, sweat pooling, dripping, fingers earth-digging, clearing.
I planted seeds.
I am giftwrapped.
I root myself
Vines spiral, reach, circle, stretch
I grow long
I am lush green
I blossom pink, red, blue, purple and white
I bend back
arch my back to the sky
I am a bough heavy with ruby fruit
I am 50