Mr. Richter's Garden
by Rosalind Foley on 03/30/14
Just outside my neighborhood is an overgrown plot of ground. Once it held neat rows of tilled earth where in summer bean vines pole danced, sturdy sentinels of corn marched and wide-leafed melon plants sprawled. In winter it boasted flower-like green cabbages. You could tell the seasons by Mr. Richter's garden. I never met and only rarely spotted him, dungaree clad and straw hatted, working the land, but when he died and his garden was left to return to nature, I felt the loss.
Absence can be more powerful than presence.
Every writer discovers that. Hard as it is to remove a choice and cherished word or scene, we eventually have to concede the piece works better without them. The poet knows that white space can be as powerful as words.
