April

My garden waits in soggy splendor,

full of secret promise beneath the soil.

It is nothing if not patient,

waiting all these fallow months

for the earth’s return to warmth,

to be tickled again by my rake and hoe

massaging away the crusty surface

and caressing its timid offerings

as they peek their tiny green heads

into the wonder beyond the soil line

the day after a storm.

© Candace Armstrong