The Soul of a Geranium
If there was shade from this 102 temperature
would you have brains to seek it
or just wilt in this direct sun furnace.
You wilt from thirst,
bent and beaten announcing
you’re pending death.
Is there no will to live
that would move you that short way
from full the sun?
There I sat, air conditioner going full blast
in the one chair that eases the pain in my back
ice water in hand all to comfort me.
The pleasant glow from a 49er touchdown
and above the crowd cheering comes you is your silent but demanding scream for help.
Turning the TV volume up does not help
nor did the sharp pain
that came with movement.
Shut up, I am coming
but is there anything louder than
a silent scream from a geranium?
Out of my chair with care and pain
careful not to fall again
I grab walker with both hands.
Slowly holding onto he fence
taking short and careful steps
I pour cold water on your wilted leaves.
Slowly and with even more apprehensive
care I wonder back to my easy chair
for I dare not fall.
I have no silent scream
nor wilted leaves
cause I fell and can’t get up.
It does not seem to be just
that a geranium can call for help with silence
and I can’t get any with a rocking shout
September 9, 2013