Woman in the garden

She waters in the community garden.
Batons of dainty buds swing in the wind.
Rippling surface of tall grass sing.
She waters what she never possess herself.

People come with sunglasses and repellent sprays just to enjoy the whimsy watering,
Then never show up again after gaining
their own nests.
Welcoming them, seeing them off, 
with a calm silent smile, 
she then returns to watering the desolated autumn garden.
Her back bows trying to find happy solitude in the moist soil,
Listening dirges of flowers lie buried in warm leaf mold.

One day she's gone and nobody noticed.
Then smells heralded the arrival of the dewy spring.
The garden closed, surrounded with a bouquet of  barbed wire,
in readiness for another hollow high-rise building.
A child passing by found a aged brass
watering can in a tiny soil mound.
He squatted on the street staring at its dim shine.
Sunset floats on his small back
like clear blood run into soft petals.