The other day I thought about the seeds
from my tomato crop two years ago.
I saved the seeds of those I thought the best,
the ones that grew the best, produced the best,
and I’m determined, this year, that I’ll plant
tomatoes in my garden once again.
I only have to dig the garden beds,
remove the weeds that think they’ve found a home,
and fertilize, and somehow figure out
a way to keep the gophers, squirrels, and
the rabbits from destroying everything.
But there will be a bumper crop this year.
I won’t procrastinate. I’ll plant the seeds
as soon as winter’s over and it’s spring.
I know it April, but it’s winter still
and raining still. You can’t plant in the rain.
The reason nothing’s planted is the rain.
The rain’s the reason nothing’s in the ground.