Winter Garden

Winter Garden

Barbara Crooker

Nothing’s coming up right now,
except these survivors, called
perce-neige in French because
the warmth of their tiny green fires
can pierce the icy crust.
Right now, in this strange snowless
winter, they’re pushing up through
hard soil, aiming their darts at
the sun. See how bravely
their bells shake in the wind.
See how their petals,
the color of nothingness,
strike a chime for the missing,
the you who’s not here.

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Barbara Crooker
Poet

Barbara Crooker is the author of nine poetry collections, including The Book of Kells (2018, Poiema/Cascade) and Some Glad Morning (2019, Pittsburgh). This poem is a lamentation for the passing of Richard, her beloved husband of almost 46 years, in 2021.

Photography by Aedrian