Holy Saturday's Work
(for that which is already but not yet)
Go outside
and kneel
beside still-sleeping beds.
Strip away all
that's dead;
the leaves,
brown and curled, and the dry, empty stems
of last year’s blossoms.
Straighten,
one-by-one,
the
scallop-edged bricks that have stood, leaning,
all year-long
like forgotten gravestones.
Roll the
giant flowerpot aside
and wonder
at the sound of stone scraping against stone.
LOVE this, Kelly. Oh, my! Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThanks Diana, poems always feel like little presents to me that appear out of nowhere. I was so thankful for beautiful weather and the chance to spend a rare day working outside. Happy Easter!
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