Friday, July 4, 2014



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


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.




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?






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