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.
Friday, September 23, 2005
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