To know we stray like a river and our faces vanish like water. JORGE LUIS BORGES, FROM ‘THE ART OF POETRY’, A PERSONAL ANTHOLOGY Hummingbirds are sipping sweet red nectar out of a feeder hanging in front of the window through which I can see my garden. It is the mature garden of a man who is seventy-five. The garden is his creation. I am he. Roses, figs, bamboo, ginger, banana, papaya, white grapes, red grapes, mango, guava, pomelo, red hibiscus, pink hibiscus, white hibiscus, lemons, lemongrass, limes, tangerines, calamansi, pink grapefruit, white grapefruit, jujube, oranges. The cuts on my hand and the calluses are from digging, cutting, and pruning. It is dignified work. If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need, Cicero said, and I think he meant men too old and too lacking in idealism to go to war again. It is also the garden, full of fecundity and delicate perfumes and dazzling colours, of a man without a woman. Every year these hummingbirds come and then they go.
What do You think about Please Enjoy Your Happiness?
