Sweet Reward

She'd gifted me her plants, as she moved to an apartment, with no available garden space. When she called, we talked flowers. I took photos to prove her green thumb prevailed. I worked in my garden today. So hot, sweat ran in rivulets down my neck, between my breasts. Wasps harassed, threatened, then vanished one second after the eliminator can was in my hand. Clothes plastered as a second skin, became wet, heavy dirt magnets. Mulch climbed up my nose, blew into my eyes. A sudden breeze feathered my cheek. A Phoebe's repeated call tickled my ears, A blood-red lily bobbed in joyful gratitude. The orange ones she had given me, smooth and bright as satin - I cut, arranged in a white vase, and took to Mother's bedside. Her last words, soft, full of wonder, "Those orange lilies - so beautiful."