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.