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Click hereWe anticipate the equinox together.
Her whispers seem like echoes
of ninety, sixty, thirty days to go.
The garden understands as she prepares
to blossom and beneath me
She trusts my feet to remember
locations of every bulb and seed.
In a month she will remind me
how much digging is left to do.
Mother Nature has her ways, don't she?
Sincerely,
jes_da_man
understated and plain, which is meant as compliment. Enjoyable.
Twelve is right but I think it works anyway. This reminds me of a poem I read a while back about a woman on her last legs with cancer but I just can't remember its name.
Makes me think of the upcoming Spring....this Winter has been dreadful weatherwise where I am.....very well done!
...enjoy your garden verse. Spring song. Even digging sounds good today.
Tess