Her Garden by Donald Hall

Her Garden

I let her garden go.
                let it go, let it go
How can I watch the hummingbird
          Hover to sip
          With its beak’s tip
The purple bee balm—whirring as we heard
          It years ago?
The weeds rise rank and thick
                let it go, let it go
Where annuals grew and burdock grows,
         Where standing she
         At once could see
The peony, the lily, and the rose
         Rise over brick
She’d laid in patterns. Moss
              let it go, let it go
Turns the bricks green, softening them
         By the gray rocks
         Where hollyhocks
That lofted while she lived, stem by tall stem,
         Blossom with loss.

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