As winter approached the layers began to slowly prepare themselves,
Much like the opposite when the first flower bulbs begin to bloom in Spring.
The garden is overgrown now.
Everything is quiet. Until a movement is made to unleash loud, ice breaking, dead leaves.
I try to count the goosebumps, while I’m truly more concerned about those living in tent city.
The garden is dead now.
Then the rain falls, thaws, and brings a fresh scent.
Much like my moods the weather is inconsistent but unwavering.
The garden is unstable now.
But soon it will be time to plant. New visions, new bulbs, renew the cycle.
Leaves unfurling, signaling homeostasis once again.
The garden is growing now.