an ode to the winter garden

cece’s prayerful poems

When the ills of the world bring me to my knees. When gloom pulls at my senses. When I am despondent, sorrowful, discouraged.

I am called to the city garden to walk among its dormancy, to accept its offering of muffled solitude. The winter garden extends an invitation to stand still while daffodil bulbs hibernate, hyacinth rests, and koi dream beneath a thin layer of ice.

I hear the garden working beneath the surface, planning its glorious spring party. Resplendent with yellow party hats, pink table cloths, green plates, purple stemware. Music everywhere.

Yet…January is still muted voices waltzing across the still ponds. The garden’s curated paths provide the weary a labyrinth, a meditative walk, an empty church, a whispering prayer.

And, for a moment, I dance while the darkness lifts, singing a winter song of joy and grace and hope.