The Backyard
Photo Credit: Unsplash
The Backyard
For the first time,
Spring is my favourite.
Eyes fluttering. Hearts unfolding. Hands digging
into the newness the dirt affords.
I have always hurried past these miracles.
Begging for the heat of summer
to thunder across my face.
But I am wanting something more gentle.
A tender heat,
allowing the ground to break.
A new Sunday ritual,
reciting the liturgy of the backyard.
Iris returning. Tulips emerging. Birdhouses chirping.
Death doesn’t happen here, anymore.
