Poetry

She Would Know It Soon

cold hands held the seeds.
I among them.
it did not feel like celebration. . .
maybe once,
but these were clammy dreams,
lines in her hands going nowhere,
just holding me, holding seeds,
hoping.

but isn’t it a wonder
that fragile beginnings
empty of vision
never determine
the vibrant awakening
of a garden.

and she would know it
soon.

-S.V.F.


photo of our garden entrance days before we brought our firstborn home to sunflowers and zinnias. what began in a grocery cart during the pain of infertility turned to this.❀

our firtborn a couple weeks old amidst the sunflowers
our firstborn a year old playing in the garden that he loves

I wonder what kind of garden we will bring our spring baby girl home to in a few days or so?❀ I’ll be sure to let you know.

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