Every weekday, members of the Rosen, Powers, and Cole families may post haikus or other comments describing where they are or what they are thinking about that day.
The same mood inspired me years ago to write this poem:
Reseeding
The season for reseeding Begins while the air is hot and moist as breath The only signals are receding light in morning And conviction that something has to change.
Summer’s damage still glares at midday, Dry tan remainder to be covered with dry tan seeds. Only with eyelids closed can you see Smooth snow or promised curls of green.
Gardeners advise to tend the soil first, Adjusting the chemistry of your plotted patch. But sometimes it’s enough to push aside old roots And scatter contents to the wind.
The same mood inspired me years ago to write this poem:
ReplyDeleteReseeding
The season for reseeding
Begins while the air is hot and moist as breath
The only signals are receding light in morning
And conviction that something has to change.
Summer’s damage still glares at midday,
Dry tan remainder to be covered with dry tan seeds.
Only with eyelids closed can you see
Smooth snow or promised curls of green.
Gardeners advise to tend the soil first,
Adjusting the chemistry of your plotted patch.
But sometimes it’s enough to push aside old roots
And scatter contents to the wind.
October 1997