Clearing the Waters

by Mary R. Smith

cigarette clenched in her fingers
hosed the patio
cedar tree flotsam
scuttled down the drain
yanked the hose
to circle the yard
soaking wild rhododendrons

Her life receded
she burrowed under blankets
marooned in
another garden
words stalled
knuckled fingers
twined in dry nasturtiums
she waited for
channels to clear.

Lake Mohegan
ice stopped the streams
the daughter walked
thin jacket
hands in pockets
stalled water
nest of broken limbs
leaf slime and forest sludge
she tripped down the bank
fumbled the edge
hands raw
yanked a burrow
of sticks and muck
back on her heels
loosened the snarl.

Mary Smith enjoys writing poetry as a hobby.  Learning to write has been a life-long pleasure.