Spring

This entry is part 1 of 19 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2015

 

My love came into the garden
when I was not looking.

All that was fallen
and forsaken, tattered,

used up, shriven—
pushed against the hard

beds no hands
all season had made

or tended, furrowed,
seeded, fruited.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series NavigationHoroscope →

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.