The Gardener
Intent on her task, she gazes
at the earth, stooping.
Raking parched leaves, she scoops
them up with gloved hands,
the black plastic bag protesting
against the wind.
See how she removes a glove
and wipes her brow,
the back of her hand riddled with
the sands of time.
See how she turns her weathered
face to the warming sun:
a lover’s kiss.
Wrinkled as the leaves
beneath her feet, she
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