A Widower’s Garden

What was once her garden

is now my wilderness.

The birds seem to appreciate my neglect.

Hummingbirds sip at the red flowers.

Sparrows build nests, swap stories.

Years ago, not even feeders would 

attract the black and orange orioles.

But I turn my back on all her hard work

and these creatures thrive.

Now, they’re as much as part of springtime

as the robins.

Of course, weeds proliferate.

But I can’t help but admire their tenacity

They spend their winters underground.

But forgo more penance when the weather turns warm.

Even rabbits pop in for a feed.

And there’s a groundhog that prefers my wasteland

to the neighbor’s scant but ordered pickings. 

The opposite of death is nature.

This activity all makes that clear.