Spring in the Maritimes, Part 3
My hands find the wild mint
Among the tall grasses by the steps
That lead down to our little garden.
It is the day before the day before
Summer is due to arrive, but pardon
Me if I remain skeptical. The risk
Of frost has passed, though I’m not
So sure. Clouds and a cold, brisk
Wind from the north threaten to spoil
The occasion. One more twenty pound
Bag of sheep manure, and the soil
Should be ready for planting.
For us, since we’ve neglected to grow
From seed, this means transplanting,
Which is dicey just before a storm.
The onions are thriving and I can see
That the strawberries have formed,
Though later than usual, like molasses.
Everything is green, the bushes,
The trees, the plants, the grasses.
Everything is full, everything lush,
Including the weeds. The forsythia,
The lilacs, and the japonica bush
Have all bloomed and faded.
Now is the time for roses,
Day lilies, and irises, shaded
From the full glare of the sun.
Tomorrow we’ll put in the tomatoes,
If it’s not too cold. Then the fun
Begins, the weeding and the hoeing.