Check out the preview of my book, “Casting Seeds.”
Seedlings in the Window
The milk cartons bow
on the sun-soaked windowsill.
As seeds peak from soil
the plastic wrap greenhouse lifts
and leaves finally breathe anew.
Sprout
I began: a sprout
on a warm spring afternoon
and while the sun sank
far beyond the western field,
she sat; a sunhat—her shield.
The Invitation
Clods of dirt cascade
atop the wilted weed pile
and she waves at me,
invites me to the garden
to plant my roots in the soil.
“Come Along with Me and We’ll Plant a Tree”
every spring she’d sing,
citing some forgotten song
from her younger days
while I, with a child wonder,
planted seed to memory.
Microburst
A spring storm has left
the hollyhocks heavy, bowed
by microburst force.
As the wind switches again,
their faces lift toward the sun.
Donny Winter 