She pulls the plug
on dying snapdragons
pansies long since gone.
Summer, long and hot,
created the first casualties
conquered the immature
filched the feeble garden
from this brown-thumbed
sower of impatience.
She cannot wait for the end,
the watering can
holds nothing but dust.
Digital photo converted to black-and-white
Near Year of Tumblewords Blog available as e-book at Lulu Publishing
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4 comments:
This could be my garden. I'm a total brown thumb and a devoted green thumb wannabe.
I was so happy to see your comment at my poem today. It's gratifying to hear from someone who has actually been to a border town and recognizes it through my words. Thanks so much.
Dear Sue,
I am waiting for frost....
My thumbs are green but I am tired.
Sherry
love the title - your accompanying photos always say as much as your poems so we get a double treat
That made me sad..somehow!
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