I kneel before my green jungle
amazed that all this spring rain has
rebirthed plants I imagined dead.
Intricate Mandelbrot workings
lace a verdant tapestry of
hope, planted, each one, with eager
expectation of perennial
visits, green shoot reminders of
days in the sun. Pushing its way
through new spring brunnera is the
delicate fern that failed to thrive
two, three years past. Lone clematis
my last best hope for success, now
racing its way skyward from the
bare brown earth of its premature
dying in that summer drought.
And astrantia, brilliant
sight between dark arches of
Solomon’s Seal and a fine pale
shuttlecock fern, it lives and with it
my hope and imagination.