ONE WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON IN MAY

Rain, the first good soaking since March.
Just this morning, I set  zinnias and petunias
in the deep dry ground, under the heavy sky, hoping.

Later, in the house, with the rain falling
steady past the kitchen window, while
I waited for banana bread to bake,

the phone rang.  It was a farmer I know
who called to say that the pregnant onion
I gave his wife years ago had a flower on it.

That was all, he said.  He just wanted me to know.
His corn was planted, hay fields seeded,
the onion had a flower.  That was all.

May 19, 1999

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