Photo by Thurman Couch, Pasadena CA
NOT YET 8 A. M.
I shuck
my sweaty clothes,
work shoes & sox, re-dress,
wash my face & arms & feet to
cool off.
Barely
a month into
my 80th year, I--
every third day, as my gardener
suggests--
water
the fifty new
plantings against summer's
heat. Thirty-seconds of wanded
water
into
the hearts & roots
of each--Knockout roses,
eleagnus, althea, crape
myrtle,
bridal-
wreath spirea,
redbud & yellowbell.
Like an old mule, I schlep the hose
forward.
Hoses--
all three of them--
make a 200-foot
red-and-green stream through the yard when
stretched.
Too tired
to move them back
to the narrow strip of
lawn where they stay, I give myself
a drink.
c PL 2016
I especially like the last to stanzas!
ReplyDeleteThanks for commenting. I did the watering & (last) feeding this morning. Was completely wet--shoes and all--when through. xoxo
DeleteNice. I just used "schlep" in a poem last week. Great minds, huh?
ReplyDeleteI love that word! Yes! Great minds. LOL What was the sentence in which schlep appeared?
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