All through the fertile spring,
While the weeds proliferated among the tame shrubs
And the once-manicured rosebushes,
She kept other promises.
Now on a hot midsummer noon
She came with spade and spray and gloves and energy
And knelt before the overgrowth.
The bees circled her head and arms
And then returned to their pollen-work
As if she were not a stranger,
So she put down her spade,
Sat back on her heels
And breathing deep the sun-pregnated air,
Became part of the family.
The Gardener
