Delayed

The frost came early and blackened the stems,

killing the weeds and the floral-shop gems.

The garden is quiet, a ruin of gray,

and I finally felt it, just later today.

I found the old bag of the dirt in the shed,

with the price tag still on, and a knot in the thread.

You hated the thistles that grew by the gate,

and I’m sorry the missing has shown up so late.