it sits
atop the bench
by our garden wall
just where she left it
our cat Taja
hides inside at play
pokes up his furry head
to look my way
he knows
it is her can
he waits every day
for his mistress
to tenderly pat his head
to reach her gentle hand
and lift her can
how many lilies
has it nourished
how many daisies
lilacs
roses
how many morning glories
it dispenses
its life giving waters
so gracefully in her hand
a delicate hand
gentle in its loving touch
gentle in its task
of planting
gentle in its tend
but rugged on any weeds
threatening her garden
she
the giver of life
the guardian
of her realm
but she could not stop
all that threatened
and I had not
her gift of giving life
and so it rests
atop the bench
just where she left it
no longer is it lifted
by her tender nurturing hand
that hand now
is still
rob kistner © 2019
