What seeds am I planting now for the world I wish to see and inhabit?

I plant the seeds of forgiveness, housed in a hull
like cardamom, eager to explode with earthy fragrance
adding subtle undertones to brighter spices
of love, desire and hope.

On this day of equal light and dark I release
seeds of judgment, not so much because I
want them in my garden but because I
want to witness how the Earth transmutes
them into something other than the bitter
pills I hoard, unable to swallow or process.

In planting seeds of creativity and abundance
I'm over generous and over eager. I throw
these into foggy hoop houses for more rapid
growth. Any shoot of green I pluck and
nibble so hungry for their nourishment.

Into the dark holes of loamy earth I shove the
seeds of clarity, tucked in next to motivation —
but not too close. The recommended spacing
is 6”, the seeds’ form of social distancing
that builds in the potential for growth. You may
not take up much space now, but you will.

I mustn't forget my perennial favorites of ease,
beauty, kindness and tenderness. My garden is
large, so I lay a patch of vining freedom to
see if it will take to the ancient gnarled
cedar. There's lightness and joy, but I
can't forget challenge, either, because there is no
growth without challenge and it provides a
touch of interest like freckles across startling smooth skin.

For color I plants smiles and giggles. Oh, and
there must be sarcasm only because she's
an early bloomer, the first to crack the crust
of snow. She's not my favorite, but she
gives me hope in her own way.

The ones that attract butterflies and humming
wings are servitude and gratitude
and a dash of sassy attitude because those
flying beauties get so distracted if there's
not something flashy to grab their
wandering tendencies.

The sweetest scent comes from love and
friendship, so I put those in the flower boxes
outside my kitchen window so they wash
over me several times a day.