Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Rain & Harvest to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
There is a little garden where my grandmother would kneel,
With a battered watering can and a heart of quiet zeal.
She watered every seedling with a tender, patient hand,
And she spoke to every flower like a child in the promised land.
The beans climbed up their poles, and the tomatoes blushed like cheeks,
And the marigolds stood guard like little suns for weeks.
She said, the garden gives you back exactly what you give,
It rewards the ones who tend it, and it teaches you to live.
I sit there now at evening, with the same old dented can,
And I water all the seedlings, and I remember her plan.
For a garden is a legacy of love that will not fade,
And it blooms in every corner where a gentle hand has stayed.
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Commentary
A garden can hold a family’s memory. In this poem a grandmother’s watering can is passed on to the speaker, together with the wisdom of patient care.
The garden is where “my grandmother would kneel, with a battered watering can and a heart of quiet zeal.” She waters “every seedling with a tender, patient hand” and speaks to every flower “like a child.” The beans climb, “the tomatoes blushed like cheeks,” and “the marigolds stood guard like little suns.”
She taught, “the garden gives you back exactly what you give.” Now the speaker sits “at evening, with the same old dented can,” watering the seedlings and remembering “her plan.” The poem ends: “a garden is a legacy of love that will not fade.”