A breeze blows through, hot and dry

As the August sun beats down from the sky

Above, the trees tremble and shake

But below, in the garden, the plants stand

Well kept by a diligent hand

Despite relying on no stake

A man kneels next to one of the plants

Never minding the dirt on his pants

Dutifully he prunes each yellow leaf

And gives each plant a healthy drink

As he lets his mind calm and think

He treats each plant as a classic relief

In his other hand is a basket woven and old

As he picks each fruit red, ripe, and bold

He places them carefully in the vessel

As his old back aches while he bends down

And his sore knees kneel on the ground

But it’s worth it for the fruit safety nestled

His calls a name across the lawn

And sees a child wide eyed like a fawn

Run to him with dirt on her chin

She smiles at him as he hands her a berry

And she bites into it feeling quite merry

Tasting the sweet acid, she gives a grin

He looks now at the thing he grew

Grown since but once no taller than fescue

As he stands up, he lifts her as well

And ignores his back as he takes her inside

For water and to eat the fruit at his side

On the hot August day, the breeze swells