Spring has a bit of loss too
saying good bye to the hidden things of winter
and the way I remembered to bring a coat.
There’s the rending of Good Friday
and the memory of great betrayals.
My friend told me this is the day to plant potatoes
as though beneath the crosses scattered on any hillside
we could bury into dark earth
a secret that we shall be fed.
I went to Ireland once and a man told me
during the great potato famine
the people gathered still to build churches
as though they were planting a desperate hope
or perhaps a belief to hold them as death approached.
Or perhaps a great faith.
Yes there is a bit of loss in Spring
to understand the bitter, and the sweet
fragile strands of light warming the trees
whose roots notice the shoots
near their wandering fingers
where potatoes are fattening.
Mary L. Fraser