San Francisco Botanical Gardens by John Cook
I went to the botanical gardens and walked around for hours, at peace
I found so many truths there
Hidden in the trees, flowers, succulents
I walked up a carved path through trees, so steep
I saw a path that was covered in sawdust and dirt and walked upward as though I was going to heaven. There were no signs
A small path with lush foliage overlapping
I continued to walk upward. Where would I end?
I came to the place where the flowers and trees were grown in pots, rows and rows
A beautiful tree next to a greenhouse, further up, giant yellow flowers hanging down, smelling beautiful
I saw no signs directing me away or workers telling me to stop or ropes barring my entry. It was part of the gardens. There were still signs describing the plants for the patrons.
A bit further up, California. Pine cones and dried needles. Patches of dying grass. The border. I was surprised to see orange flowers peeking from the brown dead grass. Were they native??
I looked closer and they had been cut from a plant and arranged carefully, resembling an offering
I was in heaven, and hiked to the top of heaven, and found where heaven was created, and found an offering at the top of heaven
I walked slightly to the side and saw the same orange flowers, but this time, growing in a tiny patch.
I walked back down, descended.
Knowing how Heaven was created did not make being in Heaven any different.
As I left, it was through the main gate. I said Goodbye to the bright lights flowers and smiled.
Thank you so much.
In the early days of this blog, San Francisco was a hotbed for Missed Connections poetry. This one has been sitting in the archives for ages, and while I think of it as more of a “poetic love letter”, it’s something many of us can relate to. Being confined to our homes, this lovely ode to the Botanical Gardens offers a much needed toast to the natural world. From the mud, the lotus emerges.
