The Garden in Winter

By Clara Blair

Looking out the window at the garden in winter,
I see the discarded Christmas tree left as shelter for the birds.
Melancholy, bittersweet memories of spring, summer, and
The subtler joys of autumn flash into my awareness as I
Remember all the gardens we have made together.

I see the two chairs left where we rested one afternoon.
You widening the brick path to accommodate my disability.
I sitting, providing moral support, encouragement, suggestions,
Marveling at the amazing determination with which
You proceeded to make our garden accessible to me.

Now the yellow crocuses are brightening the brown grass
With the promise of daffodils, hyacinths, irises. Soon you will
Prune the roses in anticipation of their beauty and fragrance,
Planting fresh herbs and clearing the beds for the new growth of
Perennials, anticipating the return of life to our garden.

The brick path beckons, ready now for my clumsy steps and cane.
All the cycles, seasons of life are present, and even in winter I see
Spring in our garden, lazy summer afternoons, the oaks' autumn blush.
You open my mind as surely as you open the path in our garden, with
Patience and a gift for beauty, my friend in all seasons.

© 2002 Clara Blair