My mother’s orchids are dead

She stopped watching the weather
to sit on her green fiberglass covered patio.

She misses them, this I know, but not today

The greyest cloud could pour
schools of fishy yellow packets
with kissing petals and lippy pistils,
and purple pointy stamen
potted, perky to pollinate
her orchid kingdom
and thrive once more,

But she will not budge.

The roots are still moist
the soil too, there would be lots
of saving,

but their leaves, necrotic brown,
charred by the sky
will just have to do-