My Yard

Some day, someone will change all this.
The yard, no longer mine,
 having neither the work nor the fruits of my labor,
 will go unappreciated and require change.
The pond, once filling mewith joy and quiet peace and solitude
 will become undesirable.
The fruit trees, the garden no longer holding or displaying beauty,
 will be distatseful, old and withered before its time.
Some day, someone 
 will erase my memory, once held dear
 and emotionally held here.
Perhaps, that is a good thing
 for nothing and no one can last forever,
 and all things pass into an action of change.
One day it will be forgotten that I was even here.
These songbirds, nesting and retrieving their homes 
 for the next batch of fledglings will be gone as well.
 left to spread their song in someone elses's garden.
The fish will become sustenance for the heron
 and the pond life will die away.
The garden, untended will no longer bloom
 to be replaced by weeds or simply grass.
My once filled, contemplative mornings
 will forget my work and sweat.
The house,the land, the landscape 
 will fall to a whim for change.
Some one else, a new owner or  renter,
 will seek a different layout and design of less work
 and all my wonder will disappear.
Someday, someone else 
 will see a new picture different from my own.
The litany of flowers and each of their names
 will fade away like their blossoms and be ground down
 by lawnmowers and weedwackers.
There is no permanence  to life in this world,
 only in the next.
So now, for and in this moment, this particular point in time,
 this now that envelopes and embraces me
 and gives life to the wonders and pleasures of my yard,
thank you God.

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