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Miss Tindall in a Time of Drought, a poem by Roger Pfingston




Miss Tindall in a Time of Drought

Making their rounds, the twins

appear to see what’s up.        

On her knees, trying to save 

the garden, she picks mint for tea,   

crushes a leaf for their noses.


She shows them how to             

deadhead daisies and zinnias.         

When their mother calls        

they leave without a word,

leaving her to lean back 

and rest, watching them go, 

bright shorts and sneakers, 

unlike last week’s sweet goodbye 

when they handed her the sky 

scribbled with rain and folded


like mail. She studies the hole 

in the forefinger of her right 

glove, wondering with a sigh 

what it is she does that she 

might do otherwise.

Roger Pfingston is the author of Something Iridescent, a collection of poetry and fiction, as well as five chapbooks, the most recent being What’s Given from Kattywompus Press. He has poems in recent issues of I-70 Review, Sheila-Na-Gig, Main Street Rag, Innisfree Poetry Journal, Hamilton Stone Review, and Valparaiso Poetry Review. In 2020 he was nominated twice for a Pushcart Prize.