jessicaminiermabe

my writing, photography and the occasional handicraft

March 12, 1993

Primavera                 
             for my mother

Though you did not feel a breeze,
the leaves drifted down around your feet
to form a carpet of decay.
You raised your hands
to stop their fall, but you could not
keep them from their deaths, and I saw
this, and I remembered.
Perhaps there are winds
we cannot feel that move us
with their breath.

You are the most capable of gardeners, and I know
that for you that the death of the leaves is a gift
to the earth, and that the bulbs you will plant,
fingers digging into death, into earth,
will flourish and grow to move you
with their grace. 

© Jessica Minier Mabe

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2 Responses to “Poem: Primavera”

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