March 8, 2017

One minute until midnight.

I imagine the daffodils are sleeping too. Or peeking, blooming and forcing me to leave the house, careen around the yard. 

Am I complaining? My garden was once the envy of the neighbors. Now it has become a sad grave. 

I sat in it today. Scanned the rocks, spring bulbs emerging… snowdrops, crocus, daffodils. The day lily and lillies will soon be here. And in their  mid-afternoon fragrance I will drift off with a cup of tea.

I would have invited you, had I known your name. I watched you walk past the front gate. Your white furry pal, tag wagging, trotting behind you. Neither of you noticed me.

Today, the pencil replaced by a trowel, the hours whittled away by an ever increasing sun. My time is setting fast. I’ll need to gather a bouquet before I’m gone. 


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