Seed Futures
catalogues arrive
fill my mailbox in December
barely weeks since the garden
ceased to produce
I have just tucked it up
for the winter, in drab browns and greys
lidded compost bin, raked brittle leaves
scoured pots and trays
but inside there is colour
if only on the page – bright gold blossoms
succulent crimson fruits
lush lime-green leaves –
all burst from two-dimensional bounds
into my willing vision
months will pass before tiny seeds
fulfill their paper promises