Now she was prickly, best of times,
heat and kitchen, taken for grant,
our Lily named, of valley flower,
domesticated flora plant.
Two sons were necklaced, ring of fire,
her husband died, drink and guns,
and she had needed cactus skin,
through much pain, the hardy ones.
But blooming now in searing sun,
for single daughter understood,
a market garden, crops to share,
for cobs of maize, amazing food.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, UK, from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces curated by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion. His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com .