I found myself barefoot on the frosty porch this morning inspecting the decaying pumpkins that have been there since late September. I decided today was the day to listen to the earth’s voice and send those babies to the compost. It was a great moment (now with boots on) to admire the dormant garden’s splendor and to come inside and see the amazing growth one day brings to an amaryllis.

Thank You

If you find yourself half naked
and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing,
again, the earth’s great, sonorous moan that says
you are the air of the now and gone, that says
all you love will turn to dust,
and will meet you there, do not
raise your fist. Do not raise
your small voice against it. And do not
take cover. Instead, curl your toes
into the grass, watch the cloud
ascending from your lips. Walk
through the garden’s dormant splendor.
Say only, thank you. Thank you.

—Ross Gay in Against Which, 2006