I’m in love with the neighbor’s gardener. I haven’t seen him yet, but I admire his hoses and the trough around the Bodhi tree and his bicycle cart and bushes trimmed to upside down tears crying to the heavens and casting manicured shadows that caress the earth.
I’m in love with the neighbor’s gardener, who arrives each morning with his hoses and his bicycle cart, who lives in the shadows and in the trough and in the tear-shaped bushes, and who fades with the day taking with him the sun.
© 2022 Carol Hummel