Poem: A Warm Afternoon in March

A Warm Afternoon in March

You do not begin in a frenzy of work,
but by sitting,
and in your mind's eye imagining
this drab patch of earth as something more,

a place of refuge and hope and peace,
of color and fragrance, sitting
day after day, until finally, you see it,
as real as real and you are ready to begin.

It is a small space, a few square yard
of tangled weeds and overgrown grass,
unremarkable, covered with broken limbs,
debris from winter storms now past.

To those who walk past, it seems drudgery,
the work you do today. They watch
you pile limbs for the firepit,
see you prying heavy stones and a moss covered stump,

that seems to grow from the earth's core,
see you digging deep into the soil,
the ripe sweat of the March sun on your face,
black dirt under your fingernails.

But for you, it is not work, this effort.
It is something else,
a rediscovery, a rebirth of hope and joy,
a reclaiming of the garden left fallow,

and in each handful of rich black earth,
you breath the air of spring,
certain of a future filled
with the glory of flowers.

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The picture was taken at Roaring Run, near Eagle Rock, Virginia. You can click on it for a larger view.

Tom