Hope in the form
of geranium seedlings.
Because this winter is getting to me.
Grey skies, sloppy rain,
I feel like I can't remember what the sun looks like.
I can light only so many candles, and read so many gardening books and catalogs.
At least that's the way I feel today.
Until I looked over my geranium seedlings.
Out of the eighteen I started, seven remain.
And I'm convinced they will continue on
until I plant them in the garden,
where they will thrive.
I will go out and water them,
standing in the warmth of a dusky
I will reach down and feel their fuzzy leaves,
smell their soapy scent.
Pick a stalk of their salmon blossoms for a bouquet.
And when the summer is over,
I will once again cut their leaves
and stick them in the soil.
They will take up all the extra space on my kitchen counter
all winter long.
And they will give me hope that spring will always come.
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