I see my backyard, with bushes once slim from winter’s neglect, now

opening wide and standing tall, a fresh green, wet shine mixing in with

those dark old leaves.  Flowers have come back from last year’s bulbs,

like out-of-state friends dropping by for the annual visit.  News of

their happy incubation is evident in their tender petals, gifts they

bear in their stalks that grow stronger each day.  They have brought me

perfume, again!

Will the grass grow back on that slope that gets too much sun?  That

dried out clay-based curving mass of brittle and dusty earth, that dares

me, taunts me to defy gravity…If only I could capture water in motion

and make it stay still, long enough to sink deeper into the soil to

reach tiny, little seeds.

Will the beetles descend on my cherry laurels again, only to mate

furiously, desperately, in the smelly beetle bag as my neighbor jokes,

“I could use some of that in my home!”

The returns of spring are rich and varied.  My hands itch for the

mud-caked gloves, the garden tools beckon.

Kimberly Jew