Spring in the Garden

It is time to plant
the early crops, peas
and spinach and kale
indifferent to frost
and icy stares.

This clock turns us
with the seasons –
we are its long arms
at 12 and 6, each of us
right at least twice.

In the meadow
stands a doe, hungry
as all springtime,
still as the silence
between heartbeats,

And in this moment
I am transfixed, my
heart following down
the sun over winter-dun
and spring’s green shoots.


About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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