Ode to a Water Lily

by Dave Loftin (with art by Mary Arneson)
Writers Artists Night 2021

Water gardening is a patient thing.
You wait for the slow approach of spring.
Containers and tanks filled with tubers and roots,
Need tending by a fool in rubber boots.

Space fills quickly with no need to try,
When plants do their thing and multiply.
To solve this problem takes a magic wand,
Or in some cases, just a farm pond.

Ozark farm ponds are far from purty,
With water that is brown and green and dirty.
They contain lots of mud and scum and slime.
Things that lotus and lilies find sublime.

So the perfect solution to container overcrowding,
Was to take some lotus roots for a farm pond outing.
Through the gate, back into a hollow,
Where no one could or would think follow.

I drove my old truck with tubers and rake,
To the edge of the pond and realized my mistake.
Rubber boots pull off when stuck in the mud,
And green slime and duckweed can curdle the blood.

Ozark stubbornness came out and prevailed,
So I stripped to my shorts and picked up the pail.
The first few steps went like a breeze.
Then I sunk in the mud way over my knees.

Using the rake as both prop and a pole,
I could move along though the going was slow.
Three feet of water seemed perfect to plant,
Though the green surface slime made me start to pant.

I had to bend over to put the roots underneath,
Below the green slime unable to breathe.
With the planting done, I crawled to the shallows,
Much like a hog enjoying a wallow.

I sloshed to the truck and realized with terror,
That getting dressed while covered in green was an error.
So I put on my boots and my straw hat,
Spread a towel on the seat, got in and sat.

Wiping some flakes of duckweed from my eyes
I started the motor and put it in “drive.”
Once through the gate, I jumped out to close,
Then locked the gate, looked up and froze.

The neighbor lady was out walking her dog.
I stood rooted to the spot like a bump on a log.
She turned my direction and happened to glance,
At a slime-covered swamp monster, wearing straw hat, and underpants!

Now you might think I came up with a save,
But all I managed was a smile and a wave.
So I climbed in the truck and headed for home,
Thinking all the while I would be alone.

After this terrible experience, what else could go wrong?
It wasn’t long till I sang a different song.
Heading for home with a shower in mind,
When blue lights and siren came up from behind.

Our summertime drivers are sometimes drunks,
Most wear pants, or at least swimming trunks.
The officer who stopped me kept a straight face,
As I walked a straight line and stood one-footed in place.

He let me go with this warning for closure:
“Next time you get cited for indecent exposure.”