Planting Bulbs

Warm soil still,
the trowel
slips in next
to Earth’s worms
burrowing beneath
frost lines
as temperatures

I dig
to plant,
spelling green
to push out
of ivory bulb
and tissuey skin
to force a bloom
another year.

She watches,
leaning against
the kitchen sink,
her birds
still hanging North,
‘I can’t wait
to see the
tulips, next Spring.’