Do snapdragons winter well? Their bright trumpet mouths transform to thin paper and sacks of seeds that may or may not reproduce. Their green leaves wither a dull-green-brown.
I want them to climb tall, to catch the sunlight and bring it back down.
Do apricot saplings winter well? The one I planted turned brown; it looks like a stick in the ground, but still I persist in believing it can be saved.
I want it to be stubborn and survive, for it to find sustenance in this impoverished soil.
Do I winter well? Bears hibernate—the fatter the bear, the healthier the hibernation. I am getting there with all this boredom snacking; this being stuck in the house. My stomach so round—a harvest moon.
I want to make room for my muse and to trim back the roots of sadness.
I want to look for sunlight. Wait for my frozen soil to thaw, and for a time when stepping out the door doesn’t take such a strong push. Move the muscles just a little, a twitch and a tap, lean towards the window—the trunk may be crooked but at least the limbs and leaves grow. Palms against the window. Here, hello.
