The soil is still mostly dormant,
but it is beginning to wake up.
Annuals that bloomed last year
are gone to a gradual decaying.
But a memory of their color play
remains, now pale after glory.
It is good to remember them,
their shades of curving beauty
held in time on laughing petals.
And to recall those idle moments
when warmth and hues bestowed
the strangeness of a melancholy.
The soil is still waiting for a signal.
But the spade of early May will turn
the surface over and into the loam.
A fragrance will come from mixing
supple layers of fecund textures.
The warmth of returning Maytime
will hang or go on variable breezes.
An aroma of something intangible
wil be in particles of glowing light.
Yes, annuals will go in as dreams
of colors to smile in later memory --
zinnias, hollyhocks, nasturtiums.
But stronger roots will also be sunk.
It will not be too late in May to plant
a climbing rose bush lasting forever.
Copyright 2011 -- Tim Buck