February 27, 2024

radishes 

It’s enough to make you want to get up in the morning.
You want to stick around for a day warm enough for t-shirts, 
for taking the hula hoops out of hiding, for something to feel possible again.
For that part of you holding back to stop holding back. Even as you write this,
your shoulders relax a few degrees. A softening in your belly. Outside, 
the lawn still looks like old sawdust, but it’s enough to remember the first 
radishes you pulled last June, the slow climb of the peas against the trellis, 
the tiniest buds arriving on the peach tree. A swell of belief 
that everything would be alright, because with a day like that, how 
could it not?