Perennials

I’ve betrayed them all:

columbine and daisy,

iris, daylily,

even the rain barrel

that spoke to me in a dream.

 

I inherited this garden, and

miss my grandmother

in her big sun hat.

My inexperienced hands

don’t know what to hope for.

 

Still, flowers come: yellow,

pink, and blue. Preoccupied,

I let them go

until weeds produce spikes

and seeds around them.

 

I never used the rain barrel.

Water froze in the bottom;

too late, I set it on its side.

 

Now lily-of-the-valley comes

with its shy bloom,

choked by a weed

I don’t know the name of. One day,

too late, I’ll weed around them,

and pull some lilies by mistake.

 

Next year we’ll all be back,

struggling.

 

Just look at these flowers

I’ve done nothing to deserve:

and still, they won’t abandon me.

 

Kathleen Norris, Journey (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2001)