Ferny Inheritance

I have plants 
that were part 
of my father’s garden
Particularly 
maidenhair fern
gloriously delicate
light 
lovely as lace
For the year
after he passed
I said hello to it
every morning
as if it were him
still around
On the morning
of the afternoon 
he died
ambulance officers
carried Dad out
He touched
all the pot plants 
on the deck
as if saying 
goodbyes
to his garden
Making those 
stretcher bearers
stop
to wind down 
the canopy umbrellas
shading the ramp
He tried 
to do it himself
too weak
with only eight 
hours to live
The neighbours
couldn’t believe it
I still tend to
the fern 
in my bathroom
A remembrance 
of all the times
spent in gardens 
with him
staking dahlias
picking pea pods
checking the husks
to see if
sweetcorn 
was ready
to wolf down
licking fingers
glazed with
salted butter
when he was forty
when I was ten
“Hello Dad”
my ferny 
inheritance
I still
love you
Your garden
is still part
of mine
You are still
part of me