April 2023
Bio Note: Having just recovered from a late-winter bout of COVID, my thoughts turn to another dispiriting late-winter illness, which is the subject of April's poem. Though I no longer have a garden, nature is still my chief physician. My most recent book is Threnody, Moon Tide Press, 2022.
After Illness
After illness, I awaken remembering that I love my life,
and enter the garden to water,
though clouds are darkening and the forecast calls for rain.
I turn the hose on spindly fennel, tamping down the middle
until its licorice breath releases
and I remember that I love my life.
Water beads on shafts of rosemary, growing even in my garden,
though righteousness I once could claim has long been leached away.
Clouds are darkening and the forecast calls for rain.
I crave the taste of lavender growing fragrant
in my garden and on my tongue blooms Fern Leaf,
French, Sachet. I awaken to remembering that I love my life.
Honeysuckle, Morning Glory, Bougainvillea
tangle to an arbor making shelter in my garden
should darkening clouds unloose the forecast rain.
Mockingbirds, unimpressed by human pain,
still gather in my garden. I hear their song
and I remember that I love my life,
though clouds are darkening and the forecast calls for rain.
©2023 Donna Hilbert
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