There are those days when a pile of brown leaves,
paged together say, “It’s still winter.”
They stay until I can’t stand it any longer.
I bring my weapons, a rake and my offered hands.

I can’t wait for the wind to send them on.
I must join in the beginning
of this new season of youth, of growth.
 
I’m too old to stay indoors now.
Seedlings are hatching in my basement,
under “grow” lights.
They are tiny little green things,
sprouts, children of earth,
restorers of hope.
 
The sun is my compatriot.
She moves towards me now
in agreement.
We will work together, united
in a common cause:
life’s renewal.
 
We will cultivate life.


© by Marilyn Zelke Windau.
Used with the author’s permission.