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.