Lifting the bricks to reveal
Earthy soil speckled with:
Pebbles, glass, earthworms—
A subterranean world unleashed.

Smoky air drifting in the breeze,
The scent of dead wood and leaves
Clinging to every fabric.
A crackling fire warms the heart.

From the clutter and junk
A vision appears vaguely,
The garden lying in the wake
Of rubble and disuse.

One thought on “Spring

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