by Carol Schoen
The tree Betty gave us
for our fifth anniversary
is grown now,
sweet cherries
a treat for finches,
blaze of gold darting
between green and red.
The peony bush collapsed,
weighed down by pink
blossoms. The hostas thrive.
Day lilies, from the one
dug up at the roadside,
the year Joshua was born,
now line the fence.
They bloom
all through July,
but the black-eyed susans
were ripped out.
I heard all about it
from the woman
who lives there now.
Carol Schoen: She wrote her first poems for Sarah White’s study group and has been chugging along happily ever since.