#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Charles River Morning
your name is the print
love has made in the world,your body the growing home
your spirit has made upon the earth,your heart the rose
we have grown on life’s stem.Your sapling hands
hold the maker’s art,you are brother/sister to all
that crawls and walks and criesupon the earth,
even your hair cousin to the dandelion,your eye to bee-loving flower. . .
~ Naming, Gillian K. Ferguson
Found nest, outside the garden
The heart is newborn in the house, in the garden. There is harvest and bounty, the circle of life. How are we named? A name is our root to the earth. I am thinking about names, my daughter too. Baby’s are not born with them, they receive them. From who, and how? What if a baby’s name can be discovered in a garden, with four corners and a center, a fence, a gate, a door, a new moon in a baby blue sky above evergreens? What if a name is seed that you plant in the earth, in fertilized soil? Vegetable, flower? What if your name is the seed of wildflower, where will it blow, how will the wind scatter it, will the rain and the sun reach it? A garden of names, here’s where they grow, here’s where you harvest them. Ritual, all the wonderful spirit and spontaneity of it, in an October bloom of gold trees and damp soil. Come wind, come water, bring us a name in the Garden of Great Decisions.
