Dillow, H. C.

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University of Calgary Journal Hosting

96 Putting the Garden to Sleep We've carried the last of the tenderer plants indoors To sit on window ledges, dumb, Vegetable presences in a tidy row To green our winter expectations on. Thin soil, stretched and brown as a worn drum, Rattles under the first hard snow; What's left outdoors Must dry all spirit down to the deep pith Before this wrath is done. Even the house slides into winter stupor, And doors that stuck all summer now hang slack, But we draw our natures closer to the bone And tend love's body, for whatever reason — Root, stem, leaf — as if there still might be Under the dark earth Something remaining of a passionate season. H. C. Dillow 

Putting the Garden to Sleep

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Putting the Garden to Sleep

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