Wednesday, October 25, 2023

her flowered gloves

i see my mother
in the yard,
hunched over her garden.
her knees deep
in the black dirt.
she's wearing her old pants,
her large brimmed hat.
her flowered gloves.
i yell out to her
from the porch.
she turns and waves,
then holds
up a bright red tomato
in the sunlight.
i go down to help her up,
to give her
my hand.

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