The Gardener
There is a story hidden
In the majolica mug
with watermelon,
pear and grapes painted
on a yellow ground
that sits on the
terraza table.
Pasiano, the man who drank
echinacea tea with honey
from this cup, coughed
loudly behind the hand
that cradled the telephone,
sly smile betraying a love story
as clearly as the small child
who sometimes accompanies him to work.
Some senora’s, he tells me,
but the child has
his eyes and solid legs,
his shy manner,
lives with his mother
and her husband,
but sits on my steps
with a sugar cookie––
betraying no more secrets
on purpose
than his father does.
I can visualize this so easily. Hmmm. Makes me wonder.
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This one I really love. Can see the big mug with fruit on it, then the man, sly, a little proud, a womanizer but gentle man, then the child he fathered who lives with mama, then you and cookie and child bonding. Very gentle. Is like a painting, perhaps like the painting of the fruit on the mug. All connected. Perhaps by “yellow ground”, ie your home place.Connectedness is definitely one of your themes. There’s no moral judgment here, either, and I like that. It is just the way it is. Gentle tone.
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You always get it all, Ann–every image and particle of nuance. It is a pleasure to have someone read so closely and with such appreciation. Thank you for that gift.
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