Onion Garden
for my friend

This winter, a small miracle,
the ordinary kind yet no less
arresting.

It’s been a season
of unwinding, paring back,
rinsing worries into the river.

Rest and nourishment
despite drear
skies and snow scud.

Internal weather, too,
unsettled, you saw
the need to allow.

Here, on the western verge
of your clean, warm kitchen,
this all-unlooked-for.

Evidence, Osiris-like,
of life arising: single, green
astonishing spear.

Leslie Schultz

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