Feral Flowers

Feral Flowers

neglected,
they suffer.
plum blossoms:
wonderful
this spring.
we hope
for fruit
this fall,
something
amazing

if it
were mine,
i’d want
to prune it.
something
promoting
healthy growth,
many flowers,
much fruit

water,
by bucketfuls.
domesticated
life needs
love and care.
wild things
don’t get
deserved love
no care

Grapes in the Garden

Grapes in the Garden

angels,
on assignment,
maybe,
they touch her
somewhere
that you
cannot see

prepare
to be amazed,
again
(each spring,
it’s come
around
just like
it’s always
done before)

angels,
on assignment,
maybe,
they touch her
somewhere
that you
cannot see

snowdrops,
crocuses,
daffodils
then
hyacinths bloom,
a race to
sunlight,
a joy to
the soul

angels,
on assignment,
maybe,
they touch her
somewhere
that you
cannot see

Red Bellied Thrush

and when she
ran away to sea,
we didn’t know
when she returned,
if we would
recognize her
as the girl
she used to be

we don’t give
the answers,
the questions,
we don’t
even know.
everything
is changing,
our time
is fast
and then
our time
is slow

and when she
ran away to sea,
we didn’t know
when she returned,
if we would
recognize her
as the girl
she used to be

sometimes
we want
something,
it looks
so good,
we cannot
stand it,
we can’t wait,
or so we say,
but time
has other
notions,
it doesn’t
work that way

and when she
ran away to sea,
we didn’t know
when she returned,
if we would
recognize her
as the girl
she used to be

Rumours of Springtime

Rumours of Springtime

rumour has it,
summer warmth
is coming,
today we
expect rain
so not
too warm,
nice days
to garden,
explosion
of beauty,
flowers
everywhere

rumour has it,
magnolia
blossoms
should last
out the week,
maybe a
little more.

neighbor
lady says
she’ll help
us garden,
will work
for wine

rumour has it,
tomorrow has
such promise:
bicycle riding,
making photographs,
escape from
isolation
for an hour,
not too close,
we do not
want to die

Daffodils in Springtime

Daffodils in Springtime

daffodils
in springtime,
brighten up
the day,
a small
reminder
maybe,
there is
so much
to say

some of it
has meaning,
maybe,
some of it
profound,
we trust.
some is
like an
old car,
mostly
falling rust

a garden
is a
lovely thing,
like a
sweet old girl,
and growing
things are
precious too,
all around
the world

there is a
beauty in
us all,
something
special there,
we need to
let that
beauty rule
our lives,
don’t neglect
to care

you and i,
and everyone
are part of
something fine,
and yet
we need
humility
until the
end of time

it could come
quickly
for us all,
before we wish
we’re done,
and some of us
may wish
in vain,
perhaps,
for a bit more
simple fun

some, i see,
walking talking,
standing
on the street.
i know i may
not understand,
their rhythms
or their beat

daffodils
in springtime,
brighten up
the day,
a small
reminder
maybe,
there is
so much
to say

 

Key West Orchid

Five thousand
butterflies
flit past.
We duck
and bob
and weave.

Nestled in a
butterfly world,
an orchid shows
unfaded glory,
yet seems
to blend,
quietly
into the
background.

Still beautiful,
a mother sits,
beaming
with joy,
a butterfly,
rests on
her head.
Her daughter
photographs
pure happiness.
Wonderful like
butterflies!

We step
carefully
around them
and carry on.

More butterflies.
Outside the
butterfly world,
more butterflies.

Restored,
and painted
houses
line streets
in the old town.
Another delight.

Orange Lily

Orange Lily

Bright orange
lily!
Her gorgeous
colour,
dark eyes
watching
without
expression,
so I know
nothing.
How much
there is
to know!

Impossible
guessing
answers
to unspoken
questions.

Unknown thoughts
are safe.
We try
to keep
our silences.
I hope
so much
to cause
no pain.

We tiptoe
around each
other,
(this is
no dance)
saying
no words
that may
or may not
help.

I may deduce,
a sad
existence.
Pain that I
cannot heal.

I wish
that it was
so much better.
Sweet soul
in a beautiful
garden!
A gorgeous
butterfly,
flitting flower
to beautiful flower.
Bright orange
lily!

Time for Daisies

Time for Daisies

“Bring me flowers
while I live”,
she said,
so long ago.
We brought
them to her
funeral,
for us
as well as her.

Springtime came
a-walking,
climbing
on a wall.
Bounding
little
children,
pray they
will not fall.
All of us
are children,
learning
each short day.

Black and white
reveals a lot.
Colours can
conceal.
Sorrows,
we can learn
from too,
before our
feelings heal.

White flowers
in the springtime,
on the
flower stand,
waiting for
a buyer
to take them
all in hand.
Disaster in
the springtime,
when promises
are made.
There are
some things
I can not say.
Sweet words
that must
be stayed.

In all my days,
it’s never been
as deadly
as today.
Self-isolation
came too late,
and sickness
came along,
bounding like
a skipping child,
who’s climbed
forbidden walls.
So now we’re
trapped behind
our door,
protecting
one and all.

Springtime came
a-walking,
climbing
on a wall.
Bounding little
children,
pray we will
not fall.
All of us
are children,
learning each
short day.
Black and white
reveals a lot.
Feelings are
concealed.
Sorrows,
we may suffer
too,
before our
feelings heal.

Tomato

All these things
we never see,
all joy and wonders.
Close up,
things become,
in some ways,
clearer.
Yet, we see
even less.

All in a family,
there can be
so many variations,
potatoes, tomatoes,
and poisonous cousins.
Nightshades can be deadly.

Potatoes and tomatoes
are such favourites,
the poison
is bred out.
So nothing’s left
to fear.
And life continues,
to ends
we cannot know.