Touching Spring

Touching spring is not something I could do.

But there is a tree, loaded with white blossoms,

that drift in the sighing wind.

And it shelters a place remembered,

With rain mist filtering through street lights,

and shadows beckoning two lovers on their way.

Heavy scent calls me beneath this bower,

seeking every moment

we embraced.

Mothers

Mothers

 

Why we cry is simple.

We have seen it all, perfect

And pulled into a moment held close and breathless.

Pain fades to grey,

Colored by a path well worn,

To memories and blessings brimming over.

Service

I know of only one way to keep this joy-come-down

It’s not circumstance, nor favors done, nor wisdom’s shallow gain,

 No accomplishment or guilt assuaged can to this gift lay claim

But rather faith, which, holding true

Brings holiness from me and you.

With open eyes, and scarred hands,

We serve.

Aging

Aging is the gift of a hundred memories,

And a cherished place revisited,

Through eyes of faith,

It seems eternal,

ever new.

Flowers

Peonies

Peonies are wise virgins waiting

Their partners tease them free

Suddenly there are blooms

And sweet scent

And hidden hearts luring me in

Only to smell them, not to see

My eyes closed, they take me to a place remembered

I am once more a lover

Opened full

 

 

Why Zinnias?

The package promised teacup- sized blooms

Flourescent pink, buttery yellow, sunset orange

Bedazzling

But, they are not.

Little heads laugh at me

Two inch dots of magenta and mauve

I wait for the pizzazz…

I get a thick bed of sticky stems

Some Japanese beetles

A row of summer polka dots

My neighbor asks, “What are those?”

“They’re zinnias.” I wince.

 

 

Bergamot

Bodacious (overused word)

Bold, brave and brash in the perennial beds

I am King of the Burdocks

Come and get me

Climb my petals and take my incense to hive and hollow

Unashamed, I dominate every insect itinerary

No gardener can escape our tete’ a te

Smelling of sweat, cinnamon and vinegar

Like an illicit night’s romp, my telltale residue

Clings to your fingers

Dare you brush past me, to other blooms?

 

 

 

 

 

Spring Presence

You have come up to me from the ground
In the hoarfrost, and the dew, and the breeze at my feet
In the stifling ripple of mid-day heat
The metallic shift of an approaching storm
The soil yielding, full and warm.

I pull from the roots, and find you there
Rhizomes, and tubers, and brachts laid bare
Coming clean from the land, shedding humus and sand
Water washed provend waits in my hand.

I turn in the wind, I see your form
I find you in funnels and fog and storm
In rain and mist and early dew
In buds and green shoots pushing through.

Marriage Vows

Marriage vows are impossible
As if two people can foresee
Anything
Which would merit a steadfast heart
Despite the circumstances

Foreknowing the pain
and dismal sameness,
Would doubtless send them screaming down the aisle

They have yet to know the true meaning of frustration
Or apathy
Or loneliness

A decades-long study in failed expectations
And deep disappointments
Will leave them lost and adrift

For they want to honor
They will instead endure
They wish to protect
Instead they will watch, helpless, as the other struggles
They think they can cherish
Instead they will question, do I?
Again and again

So they will wait for rare moments
When there is relative peace
And touch needs no words
And all seems well

Their only promised fulfilled...
Will be
To stay