Of white it can be said
that breath is lost,
a waxen hour
on air embossed.
With thanks to my dear friend Donna for this gorgeous amaryllis.
Of white it can be said
that breath is lost,
a waxen hour
on air embossed.
With thanks to my dear friend Donna for this gorgeous amaryllis.
A cold sun in the sky
twins itself on ice;
the amaryllis roisters:
it too can ignite twice.
You don’t need a fireplace
to have a crackling blaze
there are other fires
that warm our winter days.
Botanical high-rise
so long my wait!
your Christmas bloom
is a little late
but maybe you knew
you had my plan bettered:
to open with new year
in your own time unfettered.
The tulips languish, sodden,
(those not by rabbit eaten)
jonquils merely leaf
cold-weary, winter-beaten.
A miser’s hand apportions
the flowering of this spring
there’s scant delight in the meadow
and nary a daffy-down-dilling.
But from windless cozy house
a trumpeting four-in-one
sings out to the colorless garden:
“I’ll show you how it’s done!”
It quadruple megaphones
“You can be like me, yay, verily!”
the concerted garden response
comes back somewhat raspberrily.
With thanks and apologies to Shakespeare.
stretch the bounds of trust
I’m sure theirĀ sotto voce
is how they wish I’d dust.
it had begun to grow
an intestine-like appendage
with phosphorescent glow.
How gross! I said
Why couldn’t it wait?
What kind of triage?
Am I too late?
Desperate, despondent
I tucked it in a pot
gave it winter sun
and apologized a lot.
Now regarding coolly
my mayhem and my mess
it glories in its own
single-mindedness.
.