by Marlene Vidibor

I must dig deep to clear the bed
through sod.   Slender, pallid
ribbons ragged from so much
holding up the world, strength
sapped by winter's gloom,
while beneath step and spade
foundations of growth straddle
that moment life hinges on:
some cosmic decision whether
to bloom once more or wither

Then I see
New shoots sprout out of buried roots
Green renderings rising tenderly
Around edges of sunken slabs
Tombstones for glowworms' graves
Danced across by chirping birds

From that tenuous damp hold
In early April's trampled earth
Along the slate path
Springs an annunciation of
Possible salvation

While butterflies weave and
Wasps shape their nests
I plight my troth to the grass
As I did once with you
Pleading as if in prayer

With grubs and worms
For solace, support, survival
Space enough for each to reach for life
Protected, not hindered by weeds'
Shadowy encroachment or gluttonous borers

Out of human foolishness
I begged you to try to spread your sparse seed
Ragged roots, stricken hope
Whatever remained in your juices
Flowing, albeit slowly and in pain

But we cannot draw tendrils from each other
As sun and rain from grass
Without its will
But must grant freedom
For reflection, loss, gain

Resurrection in its time

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