Deep in the woods I buried a flower
Far below the leaves and scattered bark
And planted a wish that Spring might grant me
Fearing by May all would be dark
Through the snow of a fading winter
A twisted sprig broke toward the sky
Carved on its trunk were tiny letters…
'The gate's now open—your time to fly'
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April,2017)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem