My Garden

Everywhere, in my garden, in my thoughts
I batten down, shore up, and prune severely.
All tender plants are cut down to the roots.  My gentle earth is barren now, or nearly.
Harden it well against the loss and change
Prepare to hold the fastness,
since I know this open self must grow more harsh and strange
Before it meets the softness of the snow.
Withstand, endure, the worst is still to come.
Wild animals seek shelter from the cold,
But I am as exposed here safe at home
As the wild fox running outside the fold.