This Garden

December 12, 2006

Rice Cultures in Vietnam

TQ Luong




Boots press the dampened dirt,
As sweaty hands touch broccoli.
Muddy gloves, cracked hands,
Hair clinging to my forehead as


Bugs whir their buzz
In my ears, on my neck,
Around my thoughts,
A singular dance tune.


 The sun sounds the
Storm cloud’s warning
As my nails accumulate
Dirt and condensation

 Billows, coming in to place….

 Mountains, hills,
Light, Dark as
The wind rustles
The pepper plants


 I feel time’s movement…


In this garden.





Wolf Kettler


3 Responses to “This Garden”

  1. qazse said

    I like this very much. It puts me in that garden.

    “I feel time’s movement…” is a wonderful discovery

  2. kimtelas said

    Oh, what else could a writer ask for?

    The garden is a meditation for me, it is a place where I can be in the stillness, I easily forget myselves.

    Thank you qazse!


  3. qazse said

    “I easily forget myselves.” ha lol 🙂

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