The Weight of the Thing

Tell me then
why did we not share this news?
To be found is to be known
tell me.
Why did we bury it in the backyard
with the forget-me-nots 
and the potatoes?

With measured step
I trod lightly,
lest the bracken’s crackle 
herald my ungainly arrival. 

I may yet

And though the old pear 
may rot on the sill,
each sapling carries within it
its own 

The soil of regret may
nourish still.