I passed a woman on my way to work. She didn’t notice me, or so I thought.
She was in her garden clipping flowers. Her hair was braided, dirty blond.
She wore a nightdress that was pink and white.
I guessed that she was nineteen, maybe twenty.
But my guess was wrong. I met her later when a cinder hit my eye.
She was a doctor. You will be okay, she said to me with such a weight of knowledge
I was quite relieved. I went home giddily and late that night went out to water
all the little flowers along my path.