An empty car park
becomes the playground
of the last fall leaves,
wizened brown flakes
skittering and scraping
scud missiles
of hope
to the garden
hidden beneath
the asphalt,
now crumbling
from heaving and sighing
its icy skin
itching
for Spring.
Soil pushes up
weeds from beneath
the widening cracks
where shredded leaves
find their final rest
and restore hope.
annarino writes 