Garden Politics

Have you ever starved a hydrangea?
I have. The Government made me do it.
For four days, I have borne witness

As leaves first drooped in listless agony,
Then curled, like a burned child recoils into a tight ball
Of muscle, skin, and pain.

Royal-blue clouds descend
To crispy spheres of fibrous dust,
Beauty meeting truth, truth defeating beauty.

Neighbors on walks with dogs have glanced toward the victim
And at me. I slip between their ears to hear them acknowledge, judge,
Then remember to water their lawn when they get home.

But steps away, cool coiled compassion is stayed
By the rule of law - glibly imposed, weakly obeyed, silently abided.
And the flower falls farther from heaven, closer to earth.