Red Hollyhocks

This year, the hollyhocks planted themselves

in the crevice of dirt between sidewalk

and landscape fabric and bloomed in colors

of cranberry juice cocktail and old sheets.

The gray-haired Jehovah’s Witness stopping by

must have seen the prayer flags on our porch.

He said red hollyhocks reminded him

of his mother’s house and kept on walking.

I whispered a prayer for him, old man

in a shiny black suit, making his way

among Buddhist, heathens, non-believers.

How difficult it must be to be right

when whole neighborhoods simply ignore you.

#poetry