The Garden's Perspective:

I've grown used to the change of seasons---
the drowning and rebirth-

dehydrating and rebirth.

You change my clothes so tenderly,
cut my hair,
feed me breakfast.
I wake up to you every morning
and you come home to me each evening.
I have alone time in the afternoon.

I've memorized the feeling of your fingers.
You've learned to speak my language of wilting-

of giving and receiving.

Sometimes I wish you'd take a rest.
I can taste the delight in your face
if you'd only let another tend to it

or, tend to me.