Watering can soothe

I sweltered in my car. A metal box, arid and non-living.

Then with a click, she emerged. Cradling a watering can

wearing a top blue as an April sky.

To revive a beloved garden of England.

Or perhaps Japan: so lovingly fed and swept in to place

by delicate hands. All ferns and fronds.

From my swamp of heat I was cooled… by the whispered

grace of water. Poured gently and with effortless care.

Not one drop wasted.

The sight was good for sore eyes.

For in this oasis I felt becalmed

to witness such grace.

tom fieldhouse.blog