The Essence of Becoming

The dark gloss-green of a big-
leafed winter creeper clings
espaliered to the pebble wall;
the new year slowly becomes.

I stroll the curving brick path
of the Ridley Gardens damp
from overnight rain; white Xmas
stars hung in the trees dangle

above churned dark earth
that yearns for new plantings.
A red-veined sorrel by my foot
reminds me of my grandfather's

big hand pouring beet seeds
into the black soil, willing
them to germinate, praying
the blood turnips to swell.



Christopher T. George