Graduating to Wet Stones

Efflorescence (for Kathelyn Kay) In August I hope for black-eyed susans- two rows blooming outside my bedroom window. Last October she brought tall buckets filled with black earth from the banks of the deer pond- "they'll grow in most any soil, but they like this best." Together on hands and knees, unconcerned with damp grass and muddy hands, she showed me the secret of making homes for yellow flowers. I was more intrigued by her delicate handling of root and petal, simply nodded when she asked if I wanted to try. Next summer we will fill baskets with wildflowers- wood sorrel, cinquefoil and Queen Anne's Lace. She will tell me their names again as we walk to the pond, our duplicate prints sponged in the marshy earth. I'll forget again, enraptured by this woman who holds within her hands the secrets of women and flowers.

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