atop the bench
by our garden wall
just where she left it
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
oh would I had
so there
just where she left it
on the garden bench
still
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse