EACH DAY, MORE LIGHT

Six fifty: kitchen whispering

a sunrise with tea and toast

and hope. Looking out, planning what to grow.

After late-autumn mulching, the prospect now

of perfect loam:

giving all roots a place

to trust, explore, make home.

 

An extra day of winter

to clear

with spring-tine rake;

an extra day together,

to wait.

​

After last frost: to work,

no shortcut, no leap 

to that greenest green

only regular care rewarded 

in time

with

a brightening of the ground outside:

each day, more light

on sharp new grass

as March meets us here

and

fills up February’s heart.

​