Jane Kenyon was a passionate gardener. Like another New England poet to whom she is often compared, Robert Frost, she paid close attention to the seasons and their effects, and uses simple language to convey deep feeling.
February: Thinking of Flowers
Now wind torments the field,
turning the white surface back
on itself, back and back on itself,
like an animal licking a wound.
Nothing but white–the air, the light;
only one brown milkweed pod
bobbing in the gully, smallest
brown boat on the immense tide.
A single green sprouting thing
would restore me. . . .
Then think of the tall delphinium,
swaying, or the bee when it comes
to the tongue of the burgundy lily.
Jane Kenyon (1947-1995)