A Response to Antonio Machado’s The Wind, One Brilliant Day

Her body, lying on the ground,
decomposes into compost.

During the night, rain falls,
and next morning sun rays wash over it.

They whisper: ‘start again’.
So she pulls herself up and tends to her garden.

She replaces nettles in soil beds
with seeds of corncockles.

In languor she waters young shoots, until, one day:
the wind returns with an odour of jasmine.