When I’m in need of hope
I start seeds.
Bell peppers and cherry tomatoes from the grocery store
yielding a greater return on investment
than any Wall Street daydream;
oregano and chamomile from the box in the top of the closet,
powder-fine and weightless in my hand;
my small stash of
precious grape-purple poppies,
illicit only if you know you know.
Black soy beans, and
brussel sprouts, because we like them,
and kale – which we’ll use in soup,
if I can get it to grow. 

When I’m in need of hope,
I start seeds;
this year,
my garden will be full.