In the Garden
On the granite counter top in the kitchen
the vases and baskets of flowers â€“
lily, chrysanthemum, daisy, cyclamen,
azalea, carnation, philodendron
and a wild Christmas cactus â€“
brought home from the hospital
cluster like boarders
of a winter greenhouse,
the air fragrant with comfort
rather than warm cookies.
Walking by with the laundry,
I spot, out of the corner of my eye,
the purple latex garden gloves
I dropped there yesterday, before
the foliage arrived. They pose
among the blossoms and greenery,
one on top of the other, pulled on
by ghost hands, fingertips of the right
touched to fingertips of the left,
as though they paused
to pray, now
aware of the need.
Poem by Anita Skeen. Painting by Barbara Hranilovich.