Every other week,
after Charlie’s violin lessons,
Gran helps me weed
Aunt Bee’s flower beds.
Gran says Aunt Bee was never
a garden kind of person, but her
husband was, and that’s why
these beds are full of
so many dead plants.
I reckon Aunt Bee let them die
when her husband left.
I reckon I would have, too.
Gran says the plants aren’t
really dead, they just need loving care.
She must have a gift
for dying things,
since some green is coming back.