Gardening in a New Home

 

The good dead leave their gifts

for nothing can they take;

a bed of crocus unearthed from their leafy shroud

by this new owner’s rake;

four  lilacs forgotten twenty years

demurely veiled in shadows of

pine and beech, brushy workaday;

what light my saw and I create

will draw them forth to re-debut

in fragrant petal gowns

as fine as new. A mountain laurel

bound by thorny scraggle,

spidered by blackish ivy run amok

has kept her sleeping beauty

waiting for the kiss of knowing snips.

Every aging gardener knows

the good dead left these gifts

adorned with living ribbons

waiting for a lover

to unwind the shrouds,

untie the bows.