Saturation Point - Hawaii
Saturation Point
Dirt under my nails
A withered feeling
I did not notice the sun
Until I succumbed to a weakness
In by back and knees
My shoulders sagged
My eyelids were
Like those lead fishing lures
I found in a corner of my scrape yard
I’d like to call my garden old
The simplification of watching the
Process of spring
Is a spring
Daffodils sprout from my table
They are yellow, from Safeway, butter-cup gold
Morning glory bells and daisy clusters
Could not be crushed
In their proliferation on the chicken-farm road
The old lady sat triangular
A heart’s distance to my house
She thanked me for a gift of an orchid and gladiola
They were on silken paper, but not fake
She thanked me for the real thing and some
Potato salad my children had delivered
I smiled-
There was no dirt under her nails.
Copyright © Marian Baker | Year Posted 2015
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