The Woman from the Greenhouse

There is a woman from the greenhouse. You may know her. She was waiting for such a long time. She was hoping all the conditions were right. She was praying to the Spirit God to bring her the one. The special one. The one that would make her life complete.

She sat for many days in the same place out in the center of an open field. She felt the wind and the rain. At times she heard a whispering from far off. Like a small wind chime from someone else’s yard way down the road.

She became the mistress of waiting. Her soul shimmered with patience. No one could move her from her spot. Winter came and passed with its freezing dark days. Ice like frozen longing held fast upon the pond. The naked trees stood like heroes surrounding her, guarding her spirit. Each night when the moon came out she filled her cup with silver light. Drinking it, she knew, would make her strong.

When the days grew longer and the geese came home she bent down to put her fingers in the moist brown ground. Her red hair was lifted in the breeze like fingers of smoldering fire. The sunlight made stars shine in her eyes. Its fine golden rays pulsed down penetrating her skin, warming her blood.

The ground was heating up. The pale blue sky was a cocoon. In her peace she could see how the green love light was making everything. A thousand plants grew up around her, Dandelion, Sage, and Elecampane. Vines of Astragalus spiraled up at her side reaching for heaven. They sent their essence out to the woman in the center of the field and she felt the arriving. It was subtle, and pure, and fine. Finer than maybe, finer than soon and finer than sometimes. It fell on her like angel rain.

She looked at her hands, her arms, and her pulsing legs and she could see…the hair on her skin was dancing. Look she said, I am not the same. There is music in my fingers. I am becoming someone’s dream. My heart is singing and my belly is round. Yes, my belly is round!