Planting beauty and love and sunshine, I bled.
My garden is small, but wonderful.
It belongs to the earth and me.
And it is the home of my thoughts, and the little hummingbirds that flit between the coral bells.
Today, I saw
the Indian Strawberries crawling up the trellis made for my love's hydrangeas.
I like these better.
I weeded the carnations and the tulips
watered the tomatoes and picked a few
before I noticed.
Blood, red like the guilty plant, trickling slowly down a bare arm.
I wonder sometimes, why we give roses.
Life's not supposed to be like that.