Death
like winter makes me weep
for this earnest vegetable
now a frozen shell
A mere refrain of its former orangeness
This won’t receive a formal gathering.
Nor eloquent speeches.
Instead, it will withstand
a few last irreverent bites.
And disappear.
Will you, too, grieve the
sad remnants
sowed in my heavy heart
Buried solidly beneath the ice and sleet
Frozen and alone.
Will you dare to expect
that one tiny seed survives
and shall green emerge
to stretch spindly beneath the rich loam
push steady beyond the former shadow
envision renewal
adore the midday sun
intent on building a future spice
to infuse firm regard. To do all that
and to lift me again
loyal and true.
©C.S. De Dona 12-26-21
(Photo by Ken Masten)
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