Early Spring Garden several years ago.
Talking to Myself Fifty-Eight January 17, 2021
The woods are full of gun-shots
on a Saturday afternoon. Two helpers
come to clear the garden for planting.
They bring dry wood treated to start
fires. I give them a loaf of bread and
some frozen collards. Tim goes out
to help them. The local Trump
supporters still have their signs out.
Most of us are Democrats, with a
few exceptions. We watched the attack
on the Capitol building. We hear
they’ve put up a fence around it, and
National Guard troops brought in
to defend it and our elected president.
Where is our peacefulness? Where
is our living, breathing democracy?
Why are they shooting in the woods?
The first shipment of seeds is here.
Sugar Ann Sugar Snap peas, Early
Wonder beets, General Lee Slicing
cukes, Cajun Jewel okra, and Gold
Metal Mix zinnias, Sensation Mix
Cosmos. A brave man and a brave
woman will travel to the capitol
in three days to be inaugurated. We
Americans elected them. Why now
are we afraid for their lives
and our own?