Early Seeding Poem by Barry Middleton

Before the spring,
before the bare twigs
of my season tree began to show
a damp green haze
within their brittle net,
I caught one day a neighbor
out with hoe and spade
to turn the earth
and seed an early garden.
I did not think it bold to ask,
since the old man was of an age
too near eternal mystery
to hide the little that he knew.
He saw the question coming
because I asked with the eyes
before I asked straight out.
'Early for a garden ain't it? '
He didn't stop to clean his spade.
He knew exactly what he'd say
and looked to see if I was set to hear.
An early spring would come was all he said.
I wanted something more profound
and kept him on the hook.
'What if spring is late
and your work's undone
by late frost? ' I asked.
'Suppose it is, ' he said
and sunk his spade again.