Jacob Fite Poet I do not know?

The Gardener

I awoke to the sound 
Of the rooster crow
Red handed with green thumbs
Covered in dirt and soap in my eyes
I walk down the hall
Of this house that is now mine
Wander into the kitchen
Turn on the stove, I prepare the roast
There is a note stuck to the refrigerator
"John and Mary will be over later,
I'll be home around two."

I check on the garden
I visited last night
Only now, I harvest
I grab the shovel
That I forgot in the rain
And place it in the shed
I'll come back for it later
Next time the plants need to be fed

Now that the aroma
Of the freshly cooked meat
Has overridden the stench
I go into the dining area
And place my greasy knife
On the bench
"Honey! I'm home!"
Somebody cried
"Honey's not here"
I replied
Now blood is everywhere
I go fetch the shovel
I didn't think would be needed
So soon, it's only noon
I sit and I wait
On the love seat in the den
For the night to live
And the day to be dead

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