My mind is a garden
  whose plants have grown tall

Their season end harvest
  awaiting the call

Ideas and feelings
  cross over in rows

The laughter of children
  to lead where they go

My thoughts now a storeroom
  the food all put up

Its sustenance waiting
  for time to erupt

The answers gone fallow
  inside of my head

All questions reseeded
   —and pointing ahead

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)