In search of story

The muse in the zinnias


Zinnia babies!
Little Ys
for YAY, I LIVE!

Leafy cloud birthing
a bud — a thought —
green nascent inkling,

Then topaz and garnets,
ruffles of gold,
breeze-floated finery,
gemmed butterfly road.SANYO DIGITAL CAMERA

Ripples of citrus,
dollops of cream,
bees imbibe wantonly,
stripes popping at seams.SANYO DIGITAL CAMERA

Asteraceously proud
but democrat still,
comfy with beeblossom,
bedbug and dill.SANYO DIGITAL CAMERA

A bowl full of summer!
A head full of words —
which will stretch up
and burst sun-towards?SANYO DIGITAL CAMERA

Zinnias are symbol
of dear, absent friends —
some, fellow writers.
And this is the end.SANYO DIGITAL CAMERA

6 thoughts on “The muse in the zinnias

  1. They are gorgeous! I always plant zinnias. They will always reward the minimal care they require.

  2. You’re a better gardener than I am! This is the first year I’ve ever had zinnias that looked good. I intend to make them a tradition now. They will remind me of absent friends, though I’d think of them anyway.

  3. Maureen! You just made my day. Thank you, thank you. After I read your beautiful poem (hurray for those zinnias, and hurray for friendship!), I kept on… and on… and what a joy and a pleasure it was to spend time with you again. Some of those places I recall, some were new–but how nice to feel as if we’ve just shared writerly succor around a few pushed-together tables…

  4. And you just made MY day! It’s so good to hear from you, and it’s really quite the unexpected treat to know that you’ve read back in my blog a bit. Someone else on the journey with me. Of course Shirah and Tamara and Aimee are faithful to the journey too. Thanks for taking the time — again — and thanks for these incredible zinnias! They’ve made the view out the family room window a Fishers Giverny!

  5. What a delight to read, Maureen! I love the subtle rhyme and I’ll never look at seedlings the same way — little Ys is a perfect description. A bowl full of summer, indeed.

  6. Thanks! When I discovered that zinnias are the traditional symbol for absent friends, their bright colors became even brighter. But perhaps they will do double duty and remind me of writing mates, far AND near.

    And thanks again for the nudge toward poetry. Every time I try it, I learn something about words and about myself.

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