I couldn’t believe the bulbs would sprout
from this dry, dead thing.
And I was too busy to even think of spring
so far away.
and by closer I mean
closer to death & dying, much closer---
closer to becoming like the desiccated, brittle
bulb I palm, I dig.
dozens, maybe hundreds of bulbs: small, medium, large,
For am I not a meticulous woman, a bookkeeper
in a previous life, numbers always balanced, nary
a penny lost or gained?
babies so long ago.
I look around and see nothing but smooth, rich dirt---
rows and rows of it and nothing else.
(In my heart, flowers are wildly blooming).
the meaning of
faith and hope, and,