Rain Gods

He harvested the bok choy

with a swift movement of his knife.

Holding it up

and proclaiming it beautiful.

I am moved in the very center

of my body,

like the cells within me

delight together with

the cells of the plant.

Each of us blessed to have his confident

hands moving over and around us

with such love.

Light rain dots the back of his shirt

as he bends over the garden beds,

each one overflowing with green;

zucchini, turnips, daikon,

romaine, cilantro, comfrey, china choy.

He rinses the earth

gently off each plant he harvests

and lays it softly

on a pillow of crisp, green leaves.

And the rain continues

to drift down on us

like a baptism,

celebrating the plants’ transition

from garden

to Gardener.

He is joyful,

grateful.

Each turnip he pulls from the ground

is like the first one he’s ever seen.

Look how beautiful!  he says.

I smile and nod,

feeling the enthusiasm build.

I want to lay down

on a bed of earth

and have him

hover over me,

selecting and harvesting

with the swift, sure movements

of his shoulders, arms, and hands.

I want him to hold me up

to the rain gods

and proclaim me beautiful.