wet II

I waited too long in the morning
and the weather left, did
what I could in the rain
but how hard it was, cold
and wet, I had to give in

stubborn, I rescued the
dwarf tulips though, and
replanted them in a wide urn
to save them from the voles -

I would like to see them flower
rather than stand in dismay
at a green stalk
gnawed to the nub, barely

above ground.  Faithful he stood
and picked up and laid down -
as I asked - and cleaned
my tools of mud

as I went in for a hot bath.
The good man.  Then he made
our meal.

previous poem

next poem