planting seeds

planting-seeds

Hope in March

sounds like the muffled racket of chicks,

smells like rabbit food and fertilizer,

shines like a new galvanized washtub.

Ideal Feed and Seed held the rites

for a world made over

in its dusty bins, its priests taciturn, leathery,

measuring their potions with metal scoops

and a swinging balance.

They always had a twinkle and the crack of a smile,

Coca Cola in a small green glass bottle,

for the nearsighted girl visiting the baby bunnies.

 

What I would not give for a spin again

on the creaky seed display rack,

those many colored, rattling packets of promise,

a time tunnel back to that strange waiting place

full of sleeping beauty.

 

Stretching toward spring with all my might

and with the prompts at Write ALM

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