Faith
I dig deep to plant
The ground is dry
I plant alone
Pour scant water
Press down the earth, watched only by birds,
Grey sky.
I will wait
Through vacant winter
Listen for your voice
Naked sticks scrape in the wind
Hung with brittle ice
There is some color, red
Wind-chafed skin
But I believe in spring
In April's sweet showers
That pierce the drought of March deep to the root
Unfurling leaves kissed open by the sun,
Unmitigated tenderness unbruised.
