New poem:

November kale

It took me all this time
to notice how the plants
in the course of their slow marathon,
pass on the torch of life
from Spring to Fall

And how,
when the last bit of green fades away
the landscape relaxes
into deep yoga
and goes into zazen.

As I grow older
I am satisfied.
I am sure that I have found a real friend in nature.
The garden is an old friend,
that with my help

Will be born again come May.
My aging has been slow
compared to the swiss chard
and the squash.
Look at these hands!

So wrinkled and creased
and tough like the kale
that is still feeding us.
But even though it is tough,
the kale is sweeter after a frost.

I like to think that I am sweeter
than I was when I was younger.
It’s just the way it is.
Even though sometimes
I feel like flipping off the world

For making it so difficult
to just live and be myself,
the world that could so easily
have turned me terminally bitter,
like November kale, I am sweeter!

Gary Lindorff