The tale end of Bertha
unleashed fading chapters
of spent hurricane in
summer storms; torrents
of tropical-style rain
flash-flooded the earth and
greenery, crisped brown, bowed
limp and tired to the ground.
Still needing to water pots I
contemplated water
management with varied
degrees of hope, given
the legacy of past
generations and having
already recycled
tons of concrete away from
the site. Optimism
might win, I do have a plan;
designs on the flood-stream
that will feed it into
the ground before it
pools and swirls past my door.
Something to work on in the
quieter corners of
early and late winter.