Generation
Winters, after sowing
flower seeds in plastic trays,
then setting them
in the warm garage
under a special greenish light,
my father watched,
waited, to glimpse
the tiny green heads
pushing through
the soft, silver-studded soil.
3 thoughts on "Generation"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Great title and poem. Nice nod to father!
What a beautiful-described memory. I love the greenish light especially.
Beautiful moment, it reminds me of my papaw and his garden