Kansas Hibiscus

She watched her move The potted Chinese Hibiscus inside, Sliding it over the not yet frozen ground, Hefting it slowly over the six wood back steps, Resting and breathing, Hands on hips. Each year she would think of helping. But she didn’t And this time she could tell, She was really struggling. No one was there to help her. Years ago she had told her- “Scarlet Rose Mallow. Only plant it. Cut it back late fall And leave it in the ground.” But her friend hadn’t listened. She hadn’t listened to other things. But they were neighbors And she was from the west. They don’t listen, Everybody knew. Her neighbor had even been surprised When she had buried her husband In the back With a simple stone Next to a row of them. She could see them bloom, Five petals for each of their children, And sit with him anytime, any weather. Her western neighbor Had to go all the way to the Church cemetery And shiver or hide under a parka. So today, After the struggle was over, She made some tea And walked the distance Cups and saucers on a tray, Imperfectly matched and unbalanced. It was about time They put differences aside.