tiny waves sweep outward

crisscrossing intricate competing circles

between rows of feathered carrot tops

as each dense raindrop plummets

from the toolshed’s melodious

metal roof splashing, heavy,

into shallow brown ditch water

or trickle into rivulets gurgling

to caress the lowest points

of Mama’s garden

I scour her fine furrows

with the blunt end of a stick

trying to drain this overabundant

life-sustaining gift of water to keep

it from drowning her days

of planting, hoeing and

humming in hope