carrots are carrots

i am better
at vegetables
than i am with
flowers, she says,
her hands
brown and soiled
with turned
earth. her knees
are soft and
wet from kneeling,
her nose,
a bright red
from the sun
and april cold.
flowers are too
fragile, they
seem to need more
than i can give,
she says,
whereas carrots,
are carrots, not
unlike you.