Monday, February 21, 2011


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.



covert said...

nicely put, sir milton ....

Jan said...

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.

Bookgirl said...
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Kelly said...

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! :)