GC Bailey
~
The Garden
See dirt fresh plowed
by the old man and pony,
limping together.
Here she is with bulbs
pretending that row is hers
or chrysanthemums.
Sweet onions for beans,
steaming around her cut blooms,
make the table full.
Fall leaves cover
furrows once full of harvest,
now empty of seeds.
Snow falls on graves
one graded large, one dug small;
Neither now with limps.
See the old woman
with his cane, sowing bulbs for
long-time companions.
Ah, three in peace—
lie where spring comes with blooming
white chrysanthemums.
~
GC Bailey grew up in eastern Kentucky among generations of extended family, where she learned the love of words from family tales and from the Sunday sermons of her father. Gail spent thirty years in the real estate and insurance business with her husband. A widow, she lives in eastern North Carolina and is devoted to her two sons, daughters-in-law and three grandchildren. A life-long learner and an avid student of religion, she enjoys spending time with people, studying and writing.
~