on our twentieth
To Debra on our
Twentieth
we found the indigo bunting
on our private south woodstock trail
i said i would not fail you
when we travelled that path again
and in the pale leafy moonlight
we stepped into a piece of paradise
silver sliver so sweetly serene we laughed
it has been harder to find our way
through the trails of our trials
tear strewn too often at times to see the way
mother and father husband and wife each day
together now for twenty years of life
you work too hard and sit too little
i sit too long and work not enough
perhaps that’s our intended dance
i say stop and smell the roses
you say they need to be trimmed
i have learned from you
i have changed slowly like an aquarian sloth
i have given up my boyish ways
become at last the man i might have been
far earlier in my stubborn existence
my resistance might have perplexed
a less temperate woman
not raised in the ways of this land
you trimmed me and fed my soil
my roots feel solid at last
and even our private agonies and salted tears
for the young souls we delivered to life’s door
can not rust the bloom of your love for me
and mine for thee
i hope i have nourished you in return
lightened the fears that dwelled within
we came to each other not broken
but the glaze was surely cracked
like fine aged pitchers handed down
from those who cast our clay
and, like most, knew not the true potter’s trade
i have not succeeded as i had once dreamnt
someone of greater reknown in word or song
but i have arrived where I did not in truth aspire
or consider an end to all my desires
a partner and friend and lover like no other
for twenty full years in the hills of Vermont
now most content to garden by your side
trowel in hand compost by the shed
bee balm smells swell as we weed
we add paths and ponds and all is well
our own fruit has seen that too not by word
but by deed they have seen and lived our love
with ups and downs not some perfection beyond their ken
but we have lasted sweet lady with true affection
our willow vale is small not big
i am your gardener and you may tell me where to dig
we found the indigo bunting
on our private south woodstock trail
i said i would not fail you
when we travelled that path again
and in the pale leafy moonlight
we stepped into a piece of paradise
silver sliver so sweetly serene we laughed
it has been harder to find our way
through the trails of our trials
tear strewn too often at times to see the way
mother and father husband and wife each day
together now for twenty years of life
you work too hard and sit too little
i sit too long and work not enough
perhaps that’s our intended dance
i say stop and smell the roses
you say they need to be trimmed
i have learned from you
i have changed slowly like an aquarian sloth
i have given up my boyish ways
become at last the man i might have been
far earlier in my stubborn existence
my resistance might have perplexed
a less temperate woman
not raised in the ways of this land
you trimmed me and fed my soil
my roots feel solid at last
and even our private agonies and salted tears
for the young souls we delivered to life’s door
can not rust the bloom of your love for me
and mine for thee
i hope i have nourished you in return
lightened the fears that dwelled within
we came to each other not broken
but the glaze was surely cracked
like fine aged pitchers handed down
from those who cast our clay
and, like most, knew not the true potter’s trade
i have not succeeded as i had once dreamnt
someone of greater reknown in word or song
but i have arrived where I did not in truth aspire
or consider an end to all my desires
a partner and friend and lover like no other
for twenty full years in the hills of Vermont
now most content to garden by your side
trowel in hand compost by the shed
bee balm smells swell as we weed
we add paths and ponds and all is well
our own fruit has seen that too not by word
but by deed they have seen and lived our love
with ups and downs not some perfection beyond their ken
but we have lasted sweet lady with true affection
our willow vale is small not big
i am your gardener and you may tell me where to dig
To Debra on our
Twentieth
we found the indigo bunting
on our private south woodstock trail
i said i would not fail you
when we travelled that path again
and in the pale leafy moonlight
we stepped into a piece of paradise
silver sliver so sweetly serene we laughed
it has been harder to find our way
through the trails of our trials
tear strewn too often at times to see the way
mother and father husband and wife each day
together now for twenty years of life
you work too hard and sit too little
i sit too long and work not enough
perhaps that’s our intended dance
i say stop and smell the roses
you say they need to be trimmed
i have learned from you
i have changed slowly like an aquarian sloth
i have given up my boyish ways
become at last the man i might have been
far earlier in my stubborn existence
my resistance might have perplexed
a less temperate woman
not raised in the ways of this land
you trimmed me and fed my soil
my roots feel solid at last
and even our private agonies and salted tears
for the young souls we delivered to life’s door
can not rust the bloom of your love for me
and mine for thee
i hope i have nourished you in return
lightened the fears that dwelled within
we came to each other not broken
but the glaze was surely cracked
like fine aged pitchers handed down
from those who cast our clay
and, like most, knew not the true potter’s trade
i have not succeeded as i had once dreamnt
someone of greater reknown in word or song
but i have arrived where I did not in truth aspire
or consider an end to all my desires
a partner and friend and lover like no other
for twenty full years in the hills of Vermont
now most content to garden by your side
trowel in hand compost by the shed
bee balm smells swell as we weed
we add paths and ponds and all is well
our own fruit has seen that too not by word
but by deed they have seen and lived our love
with ups and downs not some perfection beyond their ken
but we have lasted sweet lady with true affection
our willow vale is small not big
i am your gardener and you may tell me where to dig
we found the indigo bunting
on our private south woodstock trail
i said i would not fail you
when we travelled that path again
and in the pale leafy moonlight
we stepped into a piece of paradise
silver sliver so sweetly serene we laughed
it has been harder to find our way
through the trails of our trials
tear strewn too often at times to see the way
mother and father husband and wife each day
together now for twenty years of life
you work too hard and sit too little
i sit too long and work not enough
perhaps that’s our intended dance
i say stop and smell the roses
you say they need to be trimmed
i have learned from you
i have changed slowly like an aquarian sloth
i have given up my boyish ways
become at last the man i might have been
far earlier in my stubborn existence
my resistance might have perplexed
a less temperate woman
not raised in the ways of this land
you trimmed me and fed my soil
my roots feel solid at last
and even our private agonies and salted tears
for the young souls we delivered to life’s door
can not rust the bloom of your love for me
and mine for thee
i hope i have nourished you in return
lightened the fears that dwelled within
we came to each other not broken
but the glaze was surely cracked
like fine aged pitchers handed down
from those who cast our clay
and, like most, knew not the true potter’s trade
i have not succeeded as i had once dreamnt
someone of greater reknown in word or song
but i have arrived where I did not in truth aspire
or consider an end to all my desires
a partner and friend and lover like no other
for twenty full years in the hills of Vermont
now most content to garden by your side
trowel in hand compost by the shed
bee balm smells swell as we weed
we add paths and ponds and all is well
our own fruit has seen that too not by word
but by deed they have seen and lived our love
with ups and downs not some perfection beyond their ken
but we have lasted sweet lady with true affection
our willow vale is small not big
i am your gardener and you may tell me where to dig
Posted: Sat - February 24, 2007 at 01:57 PM
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Published On: Feb 24, 2007 02:00 PM