Hauling Water

“It takes a heap of livin’

                                                            to make a house a home.”

                                                                        -Edgar Guest

Their door is locked

as they would never have it.

Curtains drawn

as they would never have it.

We dug her roses,

worms clinging to the root ball,

transplanted to where

they will be seen and tended.

Locked doors and drawn curtains

lead one to wonder

what’s going on in there.

It’s all a big secret kept from those

with no need to know what’s going on.

The old flowerbeds are choked with the weeds

she tamped down with the tip of her cane—

chives under the branching daffodils,

dirt soft and loamy from years of tending.

Mums in there somewhere, waiting their turn.

The footing is set for the headstone

and plastic flowers adorn graves

for Memorial Day.

But we hauled milk cartons of water

to and fro for the red geraniums planted there.

One foundation laid, another taken away.

New cement may be poured over mums

and sleeping tulips but we have pictures.

We know what was there.