The woman cultivated her last husband
like she cultivates her grassy patch of yard…
Her daily routine can be plotted from the window,
She pulls the small, impatient dog out the door to shit,
It is disinterested in her loud bones.
She pulls a pale green hose toward the yellowing patch of sparse fur on the ground.
One singular tree defiantly struggles,
leaning tall against the house.
She waters the same spot faithfully,
Every day, Without fail, with a Smile…
Sense of responsibility & purpose is her reward.
Her pride worn like a badge on display to her community.
All the while, blissfully ignorant…
Pine trees drown easily.