Presidents Day

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

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