his life
was inextricably connected
to the Earth ,
the Land ,
the dirt, and all things that grow …
From the vegetable garden-
from which I can remember
picking tomatoes as a child -
to the exquisite flower gardens
he crafted through out his career ,
my memories of him are small and particular:
The smell of Petrichor,
soil under his knotted nails
sweat on his brow
from a hard day’s work :
AGIANT IN THE GARDEN …
In many ways,
he was an anachronism:
a farmer.
A child of a distant era ,
when candy only cost a dime…
And yet he spoke easily
and passionately
of the most modern
abstract,
and complex of concepts:
Flow. Space. Rhythm.
An artist to his core…
I miss him,
but I know that
when we need to talk
all i must do
is speak to the trees,
and the GIANTS IN HIS GARDEN