Heavy air, hot breath of summer,

I step from the coolness under the earth,

into the heat and color and brightness.

Sun so powerful, lord of day,

I walk through the garden, giving water.

Thirsty plants beg, leaves quiver.

It is well, little ones, evening comes.

The brutal sun is sinking down,

Slow and warm like honey in the summer.

At the end of the row there are broad,

Prickly leaves on delicate stalks.

Good old friend, zucchini, I bend low.

And there at last is the gift long-awaited.

First harvest, two long, green fruits,

Bristling hairs, plump with water and sun.

Thank you, for the bounty, here drink your fill.

Walking back toward cool shade,

I kiss the summer squash, quick and secret.

Another harvest come, another year survived.

I don’t grow all my food today, but knowing

That I can grow food, from the giving,

Living earth, even in a new place,

In new soil and under a harsher sun,

That is the only feeling of safety that matters.

Arie Farnam

Pagan notes