A Strange New Cottage In Berkeley
by Alan Ginsberg
All afternoon cutting bramble blackberries off a tottering
under a low branch with its rotten
old apricots and miscellaneous
under the leaves,
fixing the drip in the intricate gut machinery of a new toilet;
found a good coffee pot in the vines by the porch, rolled a
big tire out of the scarlet bushes, hid my marijuana;
wet the flowers, playing the sunlit water each to each,
returning for godly extra drops for the string beans and daisies;
three times walked round the grass and sighed absently:
my reward, when the garden fed me its plums from the
form of a small tree in the corner,
an angel thoughtful of my stomach, and my dry and love-
Isn’t there always a project? One thing checked off the daily list and ten more crowd into view. Just walk from one room to the next and see what you are confronted with. The endless to-do list.
Ginsberg takes us on a garden tour as he cuts back the blackberries and makes his discoveries. He ends his poem with delight.
Write your own prose or poetry describing something that you did today, a project from your list. Is there a reward in it?