We explored, like two kids would have,
just to see what is there in his parents garage,
and found marigold seeds in old check boxes…
Her hat hanging just there, easy to find,
next to the door, gently used…
The stacks of clay pots, stained and faded,
waiting to nest another few seedlings someday…
Loops and knots of string that once marked rows in fertile soil
where seeds would be sown.
Simple pieces of a garden story that is rewritten each year.
Like my father-in-law, I found myself drawn to the miracle
of this garden story,
looking at those flowers and vegetables
I have never beheld anything so beautiful.