The piles of snow are finally melting,
so my eye begin to see, not the dark dirty white,
but the fresh earth.
There is green coming, I see the sprouts of the daffodils
and the snow drops are in full bloom.
But my weekend was not as clean as all that.
There were distractions,
flim-flam artists on the prowl to stand up against,
but I had support.
There were distractions.
Games that suddenly became serious,
but I had help.
And there was a garden to clean.
That was my meditative place, the place I worked alone.
Cleaning and raking and dare i say it?
Planning for the spring,