Backyard Greenhouse

A poem.

Backyard Greenhouse
I go to the greenhouse
to get rid of the blues.
Loamy earth smell inside
and warmth steamy as a sauna
even though there's frost
on the clothesline.

Tomatoes, peppers, basil
wiggle up from seed pots.
One ladybug crisscrosses
the fogged glass door.
Christine Vovakes

of 5 stories this month > Get unlimited stories
You've read 5 of 5 free stories

Only $1 for your first month.

Get unlimited Monitor journalism.