When the clock struck 12
And the noon sun glimmered
The creaky gate would open
And I would see a man
Old and withered
Hunched and small
Who fiddled with the lock on the door
With his head held down, he would give my the key
Then he picked up the hose
And one by one
Carefully
He drenched the garden
Till the leaves shone in the light
And the petals so delicate
Shook with beads of water.
He tended to the weeds
Ripping and tearing
Until the garden grew crisp and free.
Then he raked all the leaves
And pushed all the soil.
He turned to me
So I nodded and smiled
And the gardener left
When the clock struck 1.
The Gardener
