Mother

She rejoices when Spring spreads its green skirts,
Arranges them about its sun-draped form
And settles upon the tilled garden dirt
That basks beneath a bright blanket of warmth.

Seeds sprout, take root, raise their tiny green heads,
Reach for the sun, drink in April’s showers.
She picks the brash, ripe produce, tends the beds
With gentle hands and love’s healing power.

Seasons change, a chill creeps over the land,
Diminishes the sun, guides in fall’s winds.
Vegetables grow sluggish, as do the hands,
And winds once warm are replaced by cold friends.
Winter howls, its fangs frost-bite spring and she.
Spring will return...Mother, at last, is free.

©2021 KT Workman

(Note: A sonnet is a 14-line poem written in iambic pentameter. It contains and octave (presents the theme and develops it) and a sestet (which brings the poem to a conclusion).

Rhyme scheme: a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g.


Image by Adina Voicu from Pixabay