Sweating in our garden
that the Phams have turned into little Vietnam
ringed in rake and tool wood fences, a plastic pool
of spinach plants, two dogs begging for food.
Crab, blowfish and roasted clam are on the table..
Hai draws with his fingers the "S"
that separated the houses of his family
in the country of his birth:
The snake shaped river where
they lived on the banks,
gave them silver sweetness and turtles for supper.

His Cousins live now, next street down on
Saint Louis.
His Aunt who has cancer lives one block south,
on Hollywood.

And his wife Nhung tells how she gave birth
to their daughter on the boat to the refugee camp
where they lived until they came to the United States.

There are three fathers present: Hai, Nhung's Father, and
her little brother whose wife is pregnant again.
"That is how it should be: family together."

They tell us to eat more and smile
when I say," this is the longest day of the year,
beginning of summer."
And what happens after? They ask.
"It gets a little darker each day."
"How sad!" They say, "But we have today."

MaryAnn Bennett Rosberg, M.A. is a published poet, a novelist, and editor. She is also a Reiki master, NLP practitioner, and certified teacher of the Human Capacities Training Program of Drs. Jean Houston and Robert Masters. MaryAnn attends a Mystery School in New York where she deepens into the world myths that greatly influence her poetry. For more information: http://www.americanatheneum.com/pages/maryannrosberg/mr-master.html

In my youth, my heart was broken.
No, it was shattered like a porcelain cup.
Translucent and fragile, it enticed one to drink
Until it slipped from the hand and broke
Into tiny pieces, slivers so fine and impossible to find,
Putting it back together seemed hopeless
Or so it seemed.

Now as I grow old I know it is not so.
The heart is but a swelling womb, filling to capacity
Until the waters break, giving birth to its light and love
Overflowing with joy and often with pain
The heart is ever hopeful to begin again.
For it knows that each break helps the heart to grow. 
You must be broken before you can become whole.

The Goslings in May,
puffball-zygoting yellowly,
dandelioning the meadow,
are now June's pterodactyls
elbowing with stunted wings
into the velvetized dinosaur age.

Black snorkeled
Parents militarily
Feather out
Tomorrow’s flight promise
as was done to the brontosaurus.

MaryAnn Bennett Rosberg, M.A. is a published poet, a novelist, and editor. She is also a Reiki master, NLP practitioner, and certified teacher of the Human Capacities Training Program of Drs. Jean Houston and Robert Masters. MaryAnn attends a Mystery School in New York where she deepens into the world myths that greatly influence her poetry. For more information: http://www.americanatheneum.com/pages/maryannrosberg/mr-master.html

I walk the garden throughout the day
Spreading compost, sprinkling water, speaking words of encouragement
To tender sprouts of lentils, scarlet runner beans, and squash.

Sunflower soldiers stand sturdy and tall along the edge
Keeping watch over stout tomato seedlings and sprouting onions,
Cheering on canteloupes, watermelons and sunny strawberries.

I kneel to bless a tiny shoot and it responds with blessings of its own
Promises of produce bursting with the energy of Earth, Air, Sun and Water.
Spirit is here so what do these plants need from me?

Sitting back on my heels, I sink my hands in the warmth of the garden
Sifting the soft soil between my fingers, smelling the damp aroma of compost enriched earth.
A bead of sweat slides down my back as I survey the wonders around me.

I realize what the garden means to me, what it needs.
It lifts my soul and connects me to Spirit making us one.
In gratitude I gift the Spirit Garden with care and love.