Poem #65: The Gardener
The Gardener
No such amends,
she thought, bending
over to pinch off
a formerly-coral petunia's
withered brown
remains.
While not precisely
a pawn in his game
of catch-as-catch-can,
she (nevertheless)
exuded a deep blue
sorrow--aired it
from time to time
like a down-filled
duvet.
Later, wrapped
in its familiarity,
she would breathe in
the unmistakable scent
of sun-bleached cotton
and--for a moment--
look up.
(c) 2013, by Hannah Six
Photo: National Garden Bureau
No comments:
Post a Comment