Friday, September 23, 2005

a promise kept

hasn't rained for two weeks or more
sharp dry grass pricks my bare ankles
as i make my trips back and forth from

the trunk of my car, up the
short slope, back down carrying
green plastic flats, tall red geraniums, mixed
with small gold and orange marigolds

their shapes and colors bring to mind
buttons on a fancy dress uniform.
the kind of buttons that say

look, someone important is coming by
but, no one is, just me
with a trowel, watering can and
flowers that look like buttons


down on my knees i soak the ground so
i can dig holes in graveyard clay.
i arrange the tall and the short

reds, golds and oranges
to my satisfaction, maybe his
hope so anyway

pouring the last of the water
over the grey stone making it darker
washing away the pigeon droppings and dust


wiping my hands on my jeans
i say hello and goodbye for another year.



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