It’s almost been a year
since red, orange, and green,
fruits and veggies coloured my dreams.
From a desaturated and foggy if not black world,
like Scrooge, I hesitated to believe in a possible good,
being quite familiar with the opposite; But
I watched diligence change the depressed landscape and
produce not merely dollars and cents;
In the end, it produced an able woman who
with one hand takes, and
with the other gives back to the world.
No more sparse but weedy farms with safely unplowed soil;
This year, this time, suggested a kind but faceless voice,
this garden is the one you’ve had coming.
So I tilled and I planted . . .