Peas went in today. Hope springs eternal.
They’re the first thing in the soil, little shriveled green test balloons
scouting out the plausibility of May. I have a hard time believing
in this practice every year. Things look barren. The air is cold. I’m cold.
And lonely: only a couple of earthworms wriggled exposed in the loam
my shovel turned over. Frost will come and come. Perhaps snow.
And whatever mystery vermin that took them last year.
But I ran my fingers along the dark line and dropped them in anyway
because hope springs eternal and I’ve been taught life can come from anywhere