A Trinity of Abundance
Rye, Vetch, Clover
Each freely giving up her body so the other might live.
And I see how many times over we rotate ourselves,
how many ways our systems must contort
to weather someone else’s storm.
How delicious it would be to yield our cycles
for our nourishment and ours alone,
how those stubborn stems would grow.
I wrote this poem inspired by Fred Bahnson’s book Soil and Sacrament. We met while I worked with NCAT to help shape their story and support the sustainable future we all deserve.
Interviewing people so committed to our land and its stewardship was profound and left me wondering when I last communed with nature.
Not the backdrop to my day but the reason. The difference between being in nature and being with her.
The answer was, and still is, not often enough. If we can convince the kids to eat lunch and throw a frisbee in Prospect Park, we consider it a good day.
But reflecting on this time last year, when I was fortunate to attend an upstate writing retreat with The Writers Lab, I recall feeling the difference.
Every morning, I took a walk to meet this beauty. We exchanged one another’s attention with an unbroken focus, and for those moments we stood on equal ground.
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