Author’s Note: I wrote this a week before my father, Gerard Peré, died from cancer. I read it to him as he lay in his hospital bed in his living room.

II wanted the Spring for You,
That time when the Earth is black with warmth, When your hand connects with the Dirt
and you know it is time.
That day when the rains are gone
And the sun is bright—
So bright, it warms you and
Heals you once again . . .
Renews you, Empowers you,
Shows you All that is good and takes its time to say, This is Your time, Your day . . .
Your day to Till, Prune, Shovel,
Rake and Grow your Life anew.
Come, All is ready—
Your shovel is honed,
Your rake tines are straight,
I oiled your shears,
Your gloves are supple and
Your boots are by the door.
Reach down,
Touch the Earth.
Smell the warm,
Feel the Sun and
Choose today to
Plant your Life anew.