April
My peonies sleep
curled into their red roots
frozen with the ground.
I walk with what is left of winter
and discover a tiny animal, wet and black,
bereft of possibility.
It’s too close to spring to die.
William says
we need a month of sunny days
before we dig and plant.
This morning,
a hale storm threw
a million tiny pearls
onto tawny fields
that disappeared
as soon as they landed.
We wait.
We wait.
We wait.
soon 🙂
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