My gardener comes each morning
his barrow filled with hoes and trowels and rakes
calling out as he comes
“Hello, my friend.”

My gardener turns the soil, sows fresh seed,
unwraps his bounty of beauty.
A lilac bush
a rhododendron
two butterfly bushes.
A golden crested bird lands softly on a branch
and sings his morning song.

From far behind the bags of soil
my gardener draws the final gem
a stand of grasses that bend and rise.
He sets them there
in the garden by my door
near the flower bed he planted years ago
and lowers them into the sun-warmed ground.

My sweet sightless cat
listens to our voices
as my gardener and I
drink cool water.
He wipes his brow and sighs
my gardener who salutes me every morning

“Hello, my friend.”

We sit together and smile
and marvel at the new garden
while my gentle cat rests softly by my side.

My gardener takes his tools
the trowel, the hoe, the empty bag of seed
then gently lifts my cat
bends down to hear her happy sound
and whispers in her ear
as he places her in the barrow.
I stand by my door and watch them go.

It is time for her to find another porch
anther garden
another hand to rest upon
another heart to beat in time with hers
It is time.

“Goodbye, my little friend.”

For Tootsie