Digging out forty rose trees
from winter’s safe harbor home pit of dirt.
The previous year someone stole six.
Just came by and dug them out one night.
So that when we returned next morning
we were greeted by holes.
Now we’re digging holes.
Maybe one hundred so far.
along borders throughout the garden.
Holes for filling with new roses
not from taking old roses.
Besides these holes
return flowers and weeds
bees and birds
toads, closed roads, buds on trees
and people in masks
with their needs.
We are all still in this collective shock
of our world in pause around us.
As we come outside
to a world around us that thrives
and returns without us.
Strong and delicate.
Those anemic points see light again
Hey, we made it.
Here we are.
Time to get ready.