In the midst of threatening-to-be-over winter
Where the view includes five variations on the color
Gray, any glimpse of green is an emerald surprise.
When blooms no longer remain to please the eye,
Fragrance is a gift all its own, invisible color among
The empty palette once crammed with a hundred
Obvious hues.
Gone is the deep maroon of salvia, hyssop’s subtle
Lavender, the shock of neon sunflower. No more
Brilliant summer distractions; their outdoor display
Gone in the bank of memory.
This is the season of sienna-hued soil and barren
Branches, finished foliage against the foundation
At my feet, contrasting frame for what’s left
Of the garden.
I notice instead the wafting frills of winter hazel,
Aroma of sweetbox luring me to pause and ponder
The promise of Spring’s coming spectacle.
Winter’s dormancy reveals a horizon of larch and fir,
Cedar and spruce the evergreen stars to backdrop
My days in this ever-increasing linger of sunlight.