Slowly you surrender to me. Speed is of the essence not faster but slower.

As the hurricane around you subsides.

I see the cracked and broken terracotta at the centre.

Most have missed it but I see new flowers attempting to sprout among the remains.

With a glass of cool water I water everything.

As I don't know which are weeds and which are seedlings reaching for the sun.

Amongst the broken pottery a new garden is revealed.

Built upon your memories, tilling, and tears the old becomes the new.

Later, an old rusty tractor guards the way.

As we sip fresh lemonade admiring the view.