She lifts her finger to her moistened lips
scanning the pages of last years seed catalog.
She is anxious…promising anyone who listens
this will be her last,
but broken promises can be forgiven.
The day is warm and still.
A bird’s song breaks the silence.
The creaking sound of her rocking chair ceases.
A sweet, earthy smell drifts from nearby
early sprouts of mint and sage.
Principles of Scarlet Runner, Kentucky Wonder
and Black Simpson lettuce
laced over myriads of dirt mounds.
A riot of shapes and colors
mixed with variety according to hue.
Imagining the feel of the warm, damp soil,
visualizing the strong sunlight colors,
stretching the fence to unreasonable lengths,
she dares a soul to venture into her domain
tracking down the edible shades of green.
Only she knows the plan.
Time passes as time will do,
with pleasant thoughts of yielding.
She gazes into the distance marveling at it all
knowing it is not hers alone.
With stooped back, calloused hands, broken promises
again…she will plant, gather and give
to those who’ve never had a green thumb.