Survivors

Survivors

Last fall
I weeded and mulched
the garden's back corner
Thought I'd saved
myself an April task

But spring struck
armed with wet vengeance
and the first dry day
sees violets, vetch
Virginia creeper
all latched lush
to the mulched patch
Crabgrass chases
the yarrow
from its treasured
center, lost but for
a few ferny
fronds surviving
at the edges

fragile as the frayed
threads that slipped limp
through my fingers
when the baby was lost
the sky shattered