february

    4
    1203

    I am still unaccustomed
    to the spring sun shining
    down in February after so
    many years of snow on snow,
    nor have I grown to grasp
    what is already growing
    in our yard: gentle shoots
    of promise, tree buds of
    tenacity, but I do know
    enough to dig and clear,
    to rake and remulch,
    to prune and prepare . . .
    and then come inside
    smelling like hope,
    like the good earth,
    and already hungry
    for the vegetables
    I have yet to plant.

    Peace,
    Milton

    4 COMMENTS

    1. We, who are presently living in the depth of the cold and snowy north (Maine) are seriously contemplating NC where our middle daughter lives. She, like you, tells of growing and planting..this week or next. And we, old farmer folk, long for that.
      You poetry stirred in my spirit that, maybe, just maybe, we could that that leap of faith.

    2. I couldn’t have said it better myself, Milton! It’s too bad my belly this spring won’t allow me to do as much gardening as I like, but I will definitely do my best! 🙂

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