The usual suspects wilt and die.
Basil, of course, and beans. Potatoes.
Zinnias. Nasturtiums. Marigolds.
I find myself staring at the beet greens,
spinach, and arugula, marveling
at how they thrive, impervious to cold.
I have a craving for resilience.
I pull the dark leaves to my mouth,
devour the green communion.
It tastes like survival, so bitter, so bright.