Asparagus Patch

In a spring that feels like a lifetime ago
I bore these fleshy roots with her deep into the soil.
Planting asparagus with a promise of growing old together,
With a confidence in the future, and an expectation of permanence

A philosophy professor from the local college
Brought his class that day to get a feel for the soil.
To talk to real farmers and help to plant
An acre of asparagus in the few hours ahead of another April rain.

Planted years before it shows the yield of the farmer’s work,
Asparagus requires no small amount of optimism.
The farmer closes the furrows over a crop that he may someday enjoy,
If he survives, if his world lasts that long

Three years later, the asparagus patch had gone to weeds
And my wife fell in love with the philosophy professor.
The sweet and succulent spears of our marriage became
Surrounded by thistles, painful to pluck from the soil

The caring, the tending, the worrying
Come each year after the spring’s frenzy of growth betrayed
The spears finally allowed to turn into
Tall fern towers reaching overhead, gathering the sun for next year’s crop.

Still, this spring, from bare soil and nothingness
The asparagus springs forth again in tender abundance
And now with a new love, I eat the tender shoots
Emerging from the weedy patch of gone-before.