Of Soles and Souls

Spring brings daffodils
-	And crocuses, hyacinth, forsythia and nodding hellebores
-	Oh, look, my rosemary died, 
-       but here is that invincible curly parsley 
-	peeking up again
But it is the daffodils
In drifts and choirs throughout our property
That sing to my eyes

The grass grows tall
The first spring mowing yet to come
So, as I walk beside our gardens
Admiring daffodils
I fail to heed the smell
Until I feel the squish
Of that brown gift
Hidden by one of the dogs
In the growing greening grass
That gift that means
I will be scraping and washing
The soles of my shoes

Grateful even then
For the garden springing
In the soul of my senses

One thought on “Of Soles and Souls

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