Her Frozen Garden
Every solstice, when the sparrows would seek refuge In the trunk of her old yellowwood tree, And the rabbits returned to the safe harbor of their burrows, She would walk through what was left of her frozen garden.
Her careful footsteps would become the seeds of summer, Planted deeply in the piercingly cold, crisp snow, Untouched stems and thorns still protruding its surface Promising the potential of the coming spring.
The light of the winter sun made the ground glimmer, As though the ice were dancing, rejoicing in anticipation, Awaiting the arrival of the coming Spring, When it would melt and feed the earth once more.
Though she could not see them, she knew and trusted, That the old roots remained deep beneath the soil's exterior, Like old friends that would soften with the seasons And nourish the new growth in its budding.
To some, it may have appeared a barren waste of a yard, But to her, in her imagination, it was immensely overgrown, Green, giving and even the weeds were well accepted. That is why she could love the garden in this frigid state...
...because it had even reminded her to love the weeds.
Written for Virginia
- January 11, 2018 -