There’s this
Japanese gardener
who looks 40
but is
probably 60.He’s less than
five feet tall &
looks so
Japanese he’s like
the essence of
Japanese.He drives a
rusted 50s pickup
loaded with
tools &
garden trimmings.I clean windows
for a customer who
last time
I was out there
asked
if I knew a
good gardener.
Then yesterday
I saw the
Japanese gardener
in my
rear-view mirror,
loading his
tools on the
far side of a
grass divide.
I got out of
my van &
walked over,
told him about
the people
in need of
a gardener.“I don’t take
new customers,”
he said in a
soft refined voice.
“I have
regular customers,
and if I were to
take on more,
it would
detract from
the quality of
my work.
But thanks
for asking.”He smiled.
“You’re the
window cleaner,”
he said.“Yes,” I said.
“The window
cleaner & the
gardener,”
he said, &
still smiling,
climbed into
his truck &
drove away.
lovely poem.
always a treat to meet contented, self-contained folks who are there.
your suzuki story, also a treat.
nine bows!