The Gardener and Me: a Conversation

She has moved

from her large acres in the mountains

near the sacred waterfall –

from the sanctuary she made,

a 'botanical garden' of native plants, 

her space for the last 20 years or so

to a small home 

right in town,

on the banks of the river.

'It will take me a year,' she says,

'to learn all the nuances

of land, river, and wind currents

so I can start again.'

She speaks, then, of two deaths 

and a new life beginning.

'He died in my arms. He'd waited, 

he once told me, all his life for me. 

His short life – but his soul was set free.

'I wasn't allowed to cherish his body! 

But, when I was much older, I washed, 

dressed and anointed my mother.'

Her smile is soft; widens at mention

of the baby grand-daughter, her first:

'So quiet, so observant, so calm!'

I pat her shoulder briefly;

cup her face in my palm.

She kisses my cheek.

Written for Poetry to the Third Power at 'imaginary garden with real toads'. Not only does this poem have three-line verses; each verse contains three related items. (So does the title).

Photo: Natural Bridge (aka Natural Arch) Springbrook National Park, Gold Coast, Australia. 
Available for free use under a Creative Commons 2.5 Licence
www.goldcoastinfo.net/photos/v/hinterland/Picture+129.jpg.html