Chamomile, Peppermint, Lemon Balm, Echinacea. Slippery Elm.
Feeling tired tonight, and a little run down. My throat’s a little sore.
Turning to the plants I trust to keep me well.
Simple herbs, safe enough for a child, which I need since Revie’s still nursing.
How many cups of tea have these herbs made? And the other herbs, the millions of green ones covering this beautiful earth? How many remedies have they gifted us with?
Over the years, throughout the course of human history?
How many steady hands have plucked the leaves and flowers,
have dug the earth covered roots from land both familiar and wild?
How many generations had to talk to the plants
before we learned to sit
to their advice, their properties, their medicines,
Heat the water, chop the herbs,
watch the color saturate
turning slowly green, pink,
the colors of warm sunsets and fields of grass.
An ancient alchemy.
How many hands? How many plants? How many cups of tea
will it take
for us to find the way back home again?
There it is.
Wind through leaves,
and the almost silent stretching
of tendrils reaching for
Thank you for listening.