Seeds of Doubt

Aurora flamed across the golden
acre, begging me to dig
and till the soil, plant seeds tender
and true, until I felt beholden.

Persephone had done her magic,
sewn the landscape up with flowers,
sprinkled rain among the sunshine,
birthed earthly, aerial and aquatic

and I knew it must be done.
Pots of seedlings were safely planted
and growing on the windowsill, so
I moved them out, into the sun.

Early one morning, blue fire smeared
the glint of ice on roof and blossom,
spring fever dropped to winter chill
and left behind it trails of tears.

Kim M. Russell, 12th May 2020

Frost on Plum Tree - Free Stock Photo by Pixabay on
Image found on Stockvault

My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: Purple Patch

Sarah is hosting this Tuesday’s Poetics with a prompt inspired by her vegetable patch, which should not have been – until the pandemic changed everything.

Sarah would have liked to have lingered over seed catalogues, especially for the names. She says that she pictures the ‘original gardeners – broad-fingered men in corduroy trousers, no-nonsense women in wellies – and think they must have had some romance buried deep in their gardening souls, only waiting to blossom’. I felt the same way reading my grandfather’s gardening books and almanacs!

Sarah would like us to plant her poetry patch by choosing a few vegetable names from the list she has provided, tossing them in the rich soil of our imaginations, and then see what comes up.

I chose Trail of Tears, Golden Acre, Blue fire, Aurora and Tender and True.

31 thoughts on “Seeds of Doubt

  1. Vibrant tale, Kim, so alive, even in the sorrow of when “blue fire smeared
    the glint of ice on roof and blossom.” Blue fire is a great way to describe it and it is a nasty little rascal.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Morning ice gnomes finally vacated last week, and we planted our tomatoes. My wife eats them like candy when ripe. She has six towers of them. Your piece does flow smoothly, and all five terms seem seamless.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I read something the other day about never planting out before the end of May as there’s always a cold snap about mid-may. My greenhouse is getting a little crowded, but it’s a better alternative to plants getting frost bitten.
    Love your inclusion of Persephone, but wasn’t it her mother Demeter who was goddess of growth and harvest?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I haven’t even started yet. The poem was inspired by my daughter, who has been unbelievably busy in her garden. She bought a little greenhouse form Aldi, which is fantastic and I was devastated when they sold out. I’m still at the preparation stage, weeding and making space for grow bags and a smell greenhouse when I can find the right one.


  4. This is one all gardeners can relate to. I like the way you started the third stanza with, “and I knew it must be done.” It made me think about knowing when it is time to move or or let go.
    Thanks for sharing your words.

    Liked by 1 person

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