Much after his wife’s death,
such a sadness,
so soon after they had retired,
he and his neighbor
lounged in her recliners on her patio,
discussing the drainage of her back yard
and how well it worked after the great storm
they’d just survived.

She mentioned how her husband,

dead,

these last five years,

“You…
and your wife…
moved here after he died”
she said,

had seen to the topography and incline
during the construction of their home,
making sure it was effective in their hurricane prone
corner of North Carolina
and how he had arranged to have installed
a valve to shut off the county water
when they left for their Florida home
in early winter…

“Have you ever been down to Naples?
No?
What a shame…
It’s so lovely and warm!
You would love it.
I’m sure.
Where was I?
Oh.
Yes…”

…installed
in the walk-in closet
of their master bedroom,
where,
in case of a pollution alert
during the inevitable storms,
everything could be quickly
cut off
and easily,

turned on.

She asked if he would
enjoy seeing the cunning lever
in her walk-in closet,
in her bed room.

“You’ll appreciate its convenience.
You with your handiness around the house…”

“I would,” he replied.

And when he left,

much later that night,

he had not yet seen the valve,
but did not need to wonder
about its efficiency.