Walking From Winter

Late February,

Snow settles its yearly debt.

I am left without.

I grab the pots off the shelf in the Walmart. It’s time to start the garden even while the snow pack is three feet thick. Ice has made the ground as hard as my heart. Will I admit, as I shovel the Miracle-Grow left over from last year, that I am angry at the world?

Walking From Winter

A reality repeats

Like a season’s turn.

I place the seeds of life, three in one: three tomato…three pepper.. three cucumber in a rhythm that reminds me like the repeated infiltration of a knife to the heart….To the heart those raping winds still blow. “Beware the Ides of March”.

Surviving the storms

I walk away from winter

No longer in it.

As the garden sprouts on my window sill, I have to admit embracing life is better than lamenting its pain, its fear, its heartache. For all that, there is beauty too. That is worth more than all this trouble I have given myself by letting in a worthless winter of discontent.

It’s not time to plant.

Yet it’s too late to give up

Forgiving winter.