What if, tonight, we all went to bed
and thought of our best version of our self.
It wouldn’t be true, of course. Not
in this moment, and not tomorrow.
Not mid-week. Not next week.
Not even next year. But if we could picture it,
it would be a goal we could live toward.
It would be, perhaps, like the garden beds
I prepared today—hoeing in fertilizer,
last year’s grass clippings, leaves.
When I was done, the rows still looked like dirt,
but such fine dirt it was for planting.
I believe in our resilience.
What is best in us is eager to grow,
like the sunflower sprouts
volunteering again this year.
What if tonight, we imagined the roots
of our goodness. What if tonight,
we planted only those seeds.