Waiting in
the Garden
steve klepetar
Gray morning light. We wait in the garden,
not knowing which visitors might come.
All night we dreamt of cars climbing the stairs
in our house, sure as any omen we have seen.
If visitors come, we may fail to know
their faces or recognize the gifts they bear,
which may not be the omens we have seen,
but a chest of seeds to cherish and protect.
If we fail to recognize the gifts they bear,
we might just miss our chance to hold
the small, sweet seeds they offer us to hide
until spring returns, and visitors in cars.
Their faces will shine like gifts they bear
in dream cars gliding up the stairs in spring,
visitors with their giving hands aflame
in morning light, in the garden where we wait.
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