Garden Snow

Patiently, the garden waits.

Above, benches and stones rest, accepting whatever falls upon them.

Like difficulties of life, snow lies heavy on my garden.

Shrubs remain, some dormant - in suspended life ready for the next phase.

Others, have passed on though their forms remain

like memories of loved ones

they stay, blow in the breeze

still rooted there

beside the living.

Beside the skeletons are signs of potential

as seen in the magnolia tree just waiting to burst

into new life

with little care of those spirits

that nourish its roots.

There is little to do but mourn what I miss

as I prepare for spring.

From inside my home

I resist the call of melancholy 

 knowing that soon my garden will call

and with trowel in hand,

pulling a cart,

 I will open the gate.