Tuesday evening, Dec.1,2020 at 6: 30 p.m.
41 degrees Fahrenheit in Raleigh, North Carolina.
The poem is completed Saturday, July 9,2022
--Marigolds were my mother's favorite flower.
"Deus caritas est"
--1 John 4: 8
It's time to rescue the marigolds
from winter's first hard frost;
the weather will certainly kill
them tonight if they don't find
a way inside from front porch steps,
their orangish-yellow blossoms,
stems and leaves respiring together,
pumping the air full of oxygen
and false hope, reminding me
of things we have not, never had—
care—the support of brothers
and sisters. I have no illusions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem