,

The woman pauses at the always closed red garden door

Every time she takes her sunrise summer stroll.

There, she closes her eyes, ever the same as the time before,

And in so doing, imagines a garden in her own mind,

A garden she believes matches the one behind the door.

And her creation becomes more detailed each visit:

Now she can identify specific plants,

All perennials, all healthy, no browned branches visible.

And now she sees the well placed paths,

Making each garden area easily reached.

And now the plants are purposefully and pleasingly grouped,

Shorter plants at garden’s edge, the taller toward the rear.

And now she can sense the gardener’s love,

For the plants are well watered, the bare soil weed free.

Over that spring and summer, she recreates the garden at home,

And should she, during some future stroll,

Perceive an adjustment behind the red door,

An identical change in her own garden follows,

A garden that is now, in turn, a lure of local passerby.