People who are guests in his home,
eventually toward the balcony do roam,
and with an admiring glance
remark on the pond, waterfall and
all the beautiful plants.
He would like to do that very thing,
but every time there is this emotional sting.
Instead of seeing the tranquil setting
as others do along with the beauty of birds
that flew through,
he wonders when the pump and hose
will separate as they always eventually do,
giving him a twinge of anxiety
instead of a soul full of natural piety —
ah, a homeowner’s burden borne quietly.
My water hose…like Willie Nelson’s…already failed.