Like Yesterday

by Margaret Colangelo
This morning,
of all the mornings,
the moon woke me.

I followed the light
of last night,
and walked out 
to freshly plowed 
seedless mounds.

Shadows cast
like head stones
row
after
row. 

And I,
on this night,
of all the nights,
took a seed 
from my pocket
and dropped it-

in your soil

just 
deep 
enough

for its ancient wisdom 
to pick up where I left off.

I leaned the shovel 
against the 
freshly sanded shakes,
rinsed the dirt 
from under my nails
and with it,

the past.