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Arthritic Hands A
white-haired man, his arthritic hands
holding a watering can, faces
a grave, where he’s
planted a dozen petunias. “She
loved the pink ones,” he thinks, bends
slowly on painful knees,
presses the soil around a plant. He
stands unsteadily, leans against the fence, sighs,
then faces the gate, takes a step, turns
to look back, blows a
kiss, and carries his watering can to
the car. |