Against the turnings of solstice
Hope sprouts eternal, ever
Knitting itself into soil
Offering to you its seedlings.
In the dirt you kneel, stout
Gravel into kneecap as you tend
To the little rebels with laughter
Stretched through clenched teeth.
You can listen to a conversation about this poem on the Reformed Journal Podcast.
Photo by Hannes Knutsson on Unsplash
2 Responses
Caroline,
Like Emily Dickinson you capture so much in such a small space–hope, beauty, pain, resurrection. And all of it leaves me nothing but grateful for your words and for good work.
I love this so much! I’ll be thinking about it as I continue planting my garden.