Remind Me Next April

NOTE: I am posting this in February 2023, almost three years late. But I just found (or re-found) the poem on my hard drive, and I want to record it before I lose it again. I am back-dating it to the date I received it.

Debbie and I were talking on the phone, and I mentioned that I had written a poem based on the COVID-19 lockdowns. (Of course I mean this one here.) She remarked that she had written one too, a few months before. We agreed to exchange poems so I sent her mine and she sent me this one.

Remind Me Next April

Next April,
When my being is lazy and torpid
After the long Midwest winter
And all I want to do is
Stay in my pajamas
And read or knit,
Remind me how much 
I enjoy preparing my garden beds 
for planting.

Next April,
When my spirit is heavy
Because the coronavirus 
Is still with us
And there is not yet a vaccine
And many have died,
Remind me how my soul
Is healed when I turn
The earth over with a pitchfork
And break up a dirt clod 
With my hands, 
Amazed at the rich black soil,
Teaming with eager earthworms. 

Next April,
If I am not here,
As indeed I might not be,
Know how much joy
I felt on this
April day,
Standing in my garden
With the sun on my back,
The sounds of lawn mowers
And children playing
In my ears,
Black dirt and earthworms
In my hands.

Next April,
If I am here or if I am not,
Know how much I love this precious life
And how much 
I love you.

[Debbie]
April 19, 2020
[Her city and state].