A poem for the dark days of winter
This post originally appeared on thecreative.cafe.
It’s easy
when you put the garden to bed
on a cold winter day
to focus on
the bare branches
fallen in the wind,
the number of green tomatoes
— such a loss of potential —
the blackened buds,
what a waste, what a waste.
What’s harder is to relish
the sunlight on my face,
the crisp crunch
of the leaves underfoot,
the hidden treasure
of winter carrots.
But when I pause,
see past the gloom
of cantaloupes
that didn’t fruit,
of slugs that
rasp at the cabbages
in the long dark,
I look up
and find
against a bright blue sky
a little bit of beauty,
a gentle reminder
that we survive
that this is an ending
but not only that.
That spring will come
again,
with light
and hope.
