Poetry

Inspiration

By Elizabeth Harney

I didn’t expect to find the universe in my garden.
A garden I hardly tend
and moan about pruning
and bitch about weeding
and forget to water constantly.

But that doesn’t make the facts less true.
I have found the unexpected,
the amazing,
the untouchable.

Inspiration is here. Here?
Really, this is where she lands?

I’ve been looking everywhere.
Far away in foreign lands with art
made by historic hands.
Buried deep in musty books,
filled with old ideas and dead thoughts.

But instead of in grand philosophies
and unknowable truths,
she waits in my garden.

In dirty, creeping, unfurling ferns.
In dramatic shafts of sunlight
through the tree I need to trim.
In dancing bees that hum
between delicate blooms,
dripping pollen in their wakes.

“Which way?” I say.
“Right there,” she points at a gnarled root.
I aim my lens and shoot.

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