Autopsy
Below the towering one hundred foot
canopy of river oaks and an understory of dogwoods
is the brown skeleton of a dead hydrangea.
There is no doubt of its morbidity
since tweaking a branch
results in a resounding crack.
When she planted it, the gardener hoped
the bush would be large and green
with beautiful mophead blooms
as the picture on the carton promised.
But now she sits in the yard on a folding chair
drinking a glass of red wine.
She regards the dead shrub,
wondering how it, and so many others,
had slipped away under her care.
Perhaps a maladjusted sprinkler head
hovered over it for too long
or missed its target altogether.
Too much sunlight or persistent shade
might have been the culprit.
Or was it an accidental errant spray of herbicide
intended for the invading privet?
It might have fallen prey to an infestation
of spider mites, whiteflies or caterpillars.
And we mustn’t forget the possibilities
of overmulching, root rot, or poor soil composition.
God forbid, it could have been the victim
of a visit from the dreaded nematode.
Or, was it unhealthy from the start?
A runt of a plant destined for an early demise
no matter how good the care.
As she looked at the dead shrub
taking her last sip of Merlot,
she had the strangest thought.
A poor gardener is nothing more
than a twisted gravedigger,
who buries the living
and has no belief in eternal life.
William Ogden Haynes is a poet and author of short fiction from Alabama who was born in Michigan and grew up a military brat. His book of poetry entitled Points of Interest appeared in 2012 and is available on Amazon. He has published nearly forty poems and short stories in literary journals and his work has been anthologized multiple times. In a prior life he taught speech-language pathology at Auburn University and authored six major professional textbooks.