Sloan in the Garden

I was able to finish writing all my "even day" poems during April despite, or perhaps because of, my mother's illness. It seems the only thing I could do during this strange month was write. Here's one about our daughter written on April 10.

Sloan in the Garden

Sloan is in the garden.
She empties the pots,
chops down weeds,
tills the ground.

She cleans the tools,
rakes the old leaves,
piles up winter debris,
plans which plants to grow.

Inherited from my mother,
and skipping a generation,
this need to make things grow,
not minding the heat, dirt, bugs.

Sloan readies the garden,
on a warm, sunny April day,
even though it’s four weeks
until plants can feel the ground.

She looks ahead, she plans the future.