time hasn't changed

time hasn’t changed
even half
of what it promised to

- “ohio airplane crash” by joe henry


we walk out to the garden
dirt still under my fingernails
from the weeding last week
and nothing that is coming up
among the clumps of dirt
is anything that we planted
last spring

all the time we spent
looking at seed packets
combining and collating colors
by row
in our minds
laying out the markers and tags
kneading the seeds into the earth
pulling the blankets of dirt
back over their bodies
you drifting over like a tender cloud
with your silver watering can
in july when the rest of the yard
was cracking in the heat

none of that made the difference
we thought it would

every morning
we wander out to the back yard
together or alone
and wonder at these amazing creatures
the lilting yellow petals
the tight lilac buds
the prickly sticky green stems
all of these random creatures
we must have disturbed
and roused and rattled and woken
with all of our digging

and maybe all that digging
is the only thing
that really matters