I pruned petunias today,
\ndead-headed shriveled blossoms
\npast their prime.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t hard to take dry ones, to pinch,
\nnip off those bent for seed,
\nbut removing ones not quite dead, spotted,
\nor discolored, still harboring life\u2019s spark
\nbrought me up short, jolted me
\nlike a seedling torn from its bed.<\/p>\n
I saw old Jessie propped up on pillows,
\nstill smiling through her oxygen mask,
\nlistened for the faint beep
\nof my mother\u2019s heart monitor
\nand felt my husband\u2019s frail hand
\nas he spoke unanswered prayers.<\/p>\n
I could not pluck the faded petals
\nhanging tenaciously to vine,
\nthose reaching for the sun\u2019s best rays.<\/p>\n
Though those spent bodies,
\nsquandering energy needed for new growth,
\ncrowded round dazzling beauties
\nI could not hasten their leaving.
\nI could not bear to let them go.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I pruned petunias today, dead-headed shriveled blossoms past their prime. It wasn\u2019t hard to take dry ones, to pinch, nip off those bent for seed, but removing ones not quite dead, spotted, or discolored, still harboring life\u2019s spark brought me up short, jolted me like a seedling torn from its bed. I saw old Jessie … <\/p>\n