"The Gardeners" by L.M. Cole

A mother’s hands are black from planting bulbs in the crumbling soil of autumn.

A bulb is a promise of tomorrow. Mothers do the planting as a vow to get you through

to the spring. A mother’s vow is a robin always returning with the thaw to nest

in the burst-bloom branches of lilac in the yard. The ground softens to mud

and the soil yields the soul of the planted promise. The mother’s hands are black

from tending the spring. Mothers do more,

much more than just the planting.

A word from the author: "The Gardeners" is a loving poem about the often invisible work of mothers.