-This poem reflects on watering a garden at the close of day, where quiet care restores what high summer has demanded and reminds us that the most important work is often unseen.
When daylight leaves the garden slow,
the hose begins its silver arc,
across the beds where all afternoon,
the sun had written into leaf.
The peppers cool beneath the spray,
the beans grow bright with scattered drops,
and every row gives back the scent,
of earth awakened after heat.
The water sinks without a sound,
finding roots no eye can follow,
a quiet kindness in the dark,
where thirst is answered out of sight.
So much of high summer asks this,
the faithful work no one applauds,
to come when light is almost gone,
and leave the garden stronger still.