It is now February in a
Northern State
and the garlic chive ghost just
outside the window still
holds its seeds,
even after blizzards, rains,
winds of such unsettling
 
Like an orphanage, now,
for hard little griefs,
nestled in their paper cradles,
shiny in their resilience,
waiting for the reluctant
release, not yet ready to
settle into an unfurled heart,
drop the pretense of eternity
and get to the work of
breaking
open

© by Katrin Talbot.
Used with the author's permission.