the heat crept up

with the rain and

when the storms

left us

it left us

with broken trees

mostly cracked down

the middle

or the sides

shaved away by

lightning

showing the splintered

insides of the sweetgums

and the silver maples

a dogwood tree

in full bloom

stared silently at its

pale children

that lay just above

its roots like

stray feathers from

a cast out angel

after the fall

it was a little

over a hundred degrees

and when I walked

up the ramp into the house

I untied the long strings

from behind my

railroad boots and peeled

the socks out from

my heels and then my

from pruned toes

I should have knocked

my jeans clear of its

hanger-ons but

I always forgot

and they fell off

in my wake

I grabbed two short glasses

from the red cabinets

one square edged

one round

and I sat them

where I leaned

in front of the empty

sink

I poured Greenhook

in mine warm as it was

and filled the other

with water from the faucet

which I poured into

the drouthy dirt of a

potted plant

that was the first in

a row of five

then I watered myself

I didn’t know a

damn thing about

plants and it was

obvious I didn’t know

how to take care of

them or

anything else

but she loved plants

from the moment

I met her ten years ago

and she loved plants

to this day

and she could grow

them as if they had

been her own hair

or nails

she used to point out

flowers in ditches

and name them

and she would see plants

on my land I never noticed

and she would name them

she is as far gone

as she is

regardless of these plants

that sit in my kitchen

that I went out and bought

and felt ridiculous trying

to choose which ones

I make no falsities there

but drinking them

one by one

reminds me of her

and it doesn’t make sense

but nothing ever has

and sometimes all you got

is the things you do

and sometimes

all you got is the things

that you don’t

and what I got is these

plants

and what he’s got is you

that’s that, in green.