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Because everything I learned from the stained
glass windows I was told to kneel under
still remains thorned & stained & torn,
& all the teachings I was told to believe, still
leave me dis-believing & I wish it were not so —
& because
a morning bird’s song pours gratitude into me
like drought-dazzling rains & I’d much rather
kneel for that — & I do,
there’s such gladness in me now, when I get
up & brush the dirt from my knees — that modest
dirt that belongs to no one,
yet carries me & is mine so entirely in this small
lot, hedged, hidden, with its offerings of fruit
& shade & song.
So that much later, when nightfall mists fold
around everything, I’ll return to the garden again —
to be held like that, too.
~~~~
Copyright 2025 Laure-Anne Bosselaar.
This is a revised version of a poem previously titled
“The Night Garden” published in These Many Rooms (Four Way Books, 2019).

Laure-Anne Bosselaar is a Belgian-American poet, translator, professor, and former poet laureate of Santa Barbara, California. Her many collections of poetry include Lately: New and Selected Poems (Sungold, 2024).
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Always a pleasure to read Laure-Anne. ❤
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Yes, it is!
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Lovely, the true sanctity of the world
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Well said, dion.
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Laure-Anne, I can feel the earth in your poem, the connection to its comfort, its honesty, and its spirit that holds and supports – thank you.
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Laure-Anne: You know I’m one of your biggest fans. Your work exhilarates me in ways I can barely describe. As a devout gardener, I love “Garden” in particular for it soulfulness, its earthy music and its profoundly earned joy. Thank you!
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How very kind of you, Ed. Thank you!
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You are just a wonderful poet, Laure-Anne. These kinds of poems come only from good people who share their gift of great art. Thank you!
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Thank you so much, HC!
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Beautiful poem. Happy Birthday!
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It’s a beautiful poem. The reader feels the lightness and the breeze of the love and kindness that visits the garden.
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Well-said, Luz!
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You learned the difference between having a religion and having spirituality. It sounds easy but it’s a great step forwards and not everyone achieves it. Under the stain glass window, you learned to have a religion, which meant there were set rules, which required obedience and social conformity. But in the garden, unlike your religious experience you didn’t just understand with your mind instead you first “felt” a connection to something greater than yourself. In this encounter there was a relationship established. The nature in the garden manifested a spirit greater than self. It sounds to me that it came with love, and not instilling fear and demanding social conformity, instead it led you to self-discovery and to be true to yourself.
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Lovely, Luz. Thank you.
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Thank you , Luz, very much!
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Oh! This poem! This being held … I love the gladness in this poem. it’s contageous!
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contagious!! pressed send too fast!
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A hug in thanks, dear Rosemerry!
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I join this chorus with my distant bird-song of praise, the way, Laure-Anne, you have bottled gratitude and sent it out into the world…
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Thank you!
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Oh, Laure-Anne–I am so moved by this poem and I feel the small daily gratitudes that hold us–
“a morning bird’s song pours gratitude into me
like drought-dazzling rains”
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Dear Lisa, thank you!
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Beautiful poem! Reminds me of one I wrote years ago. My doesn’t compare, but very similar in feelings.
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This is the poem I’ve been waiting for a long, long time. A poem that kneels to be closer to the earth; the very heart of ecopoetics.
At the same time, there are no more of the knee bruises from the hard floor under the stained glass windows of religious travail.
Kneeling is a contested act for those who have been forced to do it. You make that clear. Laure-Anne, you redeem it right in your yard through communion with vibrant dirt. But at 82, it may not be the kneeling that presents difficulties, but the getting back up. Here’s hope for that, too. That is now my own ultra-challenge. 🧡
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Ah, in this poem I didn’t mention the old, rusting bench that sure helps getting up, dear Jim. And offers free day-dreaming from under the jacaranda. The shade of this jacaranda actually shades 90% of the yard…
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Oh, Laure-Anne! I want out of my condo so desperately now! I want a tiny yard like yours, one that holds me with birdsong and dearest dirt.
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My yard is indeed very very small, Louise — but it feels large & generous to my dog and I, and immense to the spiders who are furiously crocheting their webs right now. Thank you for your kind words.
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I’m not even allowed to feed birds here! Your yard sounds like a tiny, precious gem to me.
Perhaps that’s because I am your same age, a time when small and slow and sweet take priority over large and fast and angry…
…which leads me to: Happiest of birthdays!!!
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I’m not surprised at how beautiful this is. Laure-Anne is such a good poet. I love how this gentley connects us to earth in a tone of reverence.
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Spot on, Mike. I love the way you talk about poetry. Your close reading of Lisel Mueller’s poetry is fabulous.
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Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.
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Thank you, dear Mike — thank you warmly.
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What a deep invocation to the joys of gardening. I had never thought of it this way–as a beautiful substitute to the harsh and restrictive religion I was brought up in. Poetry and nature are divine. Isn’t that enough?
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Lovely and insightful comment, Barbara. Thank you.
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Here’s a hug to thank you, Barbara!
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Laure-Anne, you are singing my song again. And so very much gentler and lovely you sing it.
Happy Birthday and a BIG thank you for all your wonderful poems. […]because / a morning bird’s song pours gratitude into me / like drought-dazzling rains & I’d much rather / kneel for that — & I do,” Yessssss
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Thank you, dear Rosemary.
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“There’s such gladness in me now.” How I love the suppleness of this poem, of this poet’s mind. If everyone thought the way Laure-Anne does, there’d be no more wars.
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I agree, David. Laure-Anne’s poems are full of light.
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How kind of you, friend!
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O’ the blessing of dirt on your knees: this is a wonderful revision of the poem from your fantastic book.
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Nostalgic thanks, dear Marty!
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What a thoughtful & kind present from you, Michael to publish this poem — on my 82nd birthday!
In Belgium, long ago, it was a tradition to offer sugar coated almonds to friends & co-workers on one’s birthday — so here: to all on Vox Populi, are handfuls of sugar coated thank yous for your friendship, poems and/or comments that I love reading each morning. I so love our community!
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Happy birthday, Laure-Anne. I so love and admire your poems, and, judging by the number of visits to your pages, so do our readers.
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Have a wonderful birthday, Laure-Anne!
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Oh! what joy to read this poem of yours on your birthday, Laure-Anne! My birthday card to you was put in the mail a couple of days ago, but may not have been sent early enough to reach you punctually. Sending warm greetings to you by THIS medium, though. Your poems here are a gift to us all. 🙏🏽
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Such kind gestures (with an “s”!) — thank you!
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Happy Birthday, Laure-Anne! Thank you for this beautiful poem, for all of your poems, and for your wise and beautiful soul.
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So kind of you, Christine!
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What a beautiful poem! “Drought-dazzling rains, nightfall mists…” Lyrical, quiet, full of beauty and joy.
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Laure-Anne is my favorite lyric poet.
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Thank you!
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So lovely dear friend. Who was the genius that placed this poem and its voice here at the start of our labor—the week’s travail—that we might mine our own stores of the heart for it’s base metal of hope?
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It was Love who did it. Love and her constant companion Admiration.
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Thank you, brother poet…
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Your birthday got right by me! Best of the dayâDo you suppose Michael knew? Mine is Saturday! I love Novemberâheart of Calving Season!âSeanGrown just for you!Clematis.
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How the old garden is alive in this new, modest one where there is no need to “wish it were not so.” It is so, and the gladness of it being so is everywhere apparent. I deeply enjoyed this one.
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Oh, I so agree, Bob. Well-put.
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This, from you — thank you so sincerely!
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Laure-Anne, You’ve brought me to sweet tears again, those that clear the vision and strengthen the heart. Thank you.
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This is so very kind of you, Luray — thank you!
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dawn to dusk gorgeous…
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Just so.
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Merci de tout coeur, Saunier!
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Deeply love this one, Laure-Anne!
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What a gorgeous and deeply moving poem.
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Oh, yes.
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