Sonnet for the Tendered Garden
A poem
Tender shrub, green leaves of its foliage, the curl of a baby’s fingernail, knocked over by storm, its brush crumbling to touch— how did I miss it—it’s all that I can do—for those I could not save—but twist the stubborn bush from its tangled roots & turn it upright as if giving birth to a baby in br…
The Atlantic