Tell me then
why did we not share this news?
To be found is to be known
so
tell me.
Why did we bury it in the backyard
with the forget-me-nots
and the potatoes?
With measured step
I trod lightly,
lest the bracken’s crackle
herald my ungainly arrival.
I may yet
disappear.
And though the old pear
may rot on the sill,
each sapling carries within it
its own
inevitability.
The soil of regret may
nourish still.