Soon Now

Soon Now

Each morning, 

I poke my head 

out the front door to 

greet my garden

Good morning, I say,

We made it through the night!

You may laugh, but

it's not guaranteed

especially now, as November

nights grow chill, and there's a 

cold film on the morning grass

that reminds me that

Soon, soon, soon now,

I will step outside

to find my loves 

withered by a true frost

and I will reach down and

softly touch their wounded stems,

and thank them for sharing 

the journey, and whisper,

Soon, soon, soon now

we will both be hiding beneath quilts of 

cloth, or earth and snow, resting, and 

slowly, slowly gathering ourselves to bloom again