First Day of Spring

Over the winter, I dug up my garden
clearing it down to bare ground
ready to re-plant in spring, but

a dandelion has pushed up
its green leaves and opened
its yellow head in splendor.

I used to hate dandelions, impossible
to dig out, their roots breaking
and bleeding white sap, but your death

has changed that. Here I am, alone
on the anniversary of your death,
learning from a weed:
Something

may dig deep and break your roots
but you can still rise up
and show your glory to the world.  

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Aline Soules' work has appeared in journals, e-zines, and anthologies such as The MacGuffin, 100 Words, Literature of the Expanding Frontier, and The Size of the World/The Shape of the Heart. This poem is part of a new collection entitled Evening Sun.  

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