An Ode to the Dogwood
An Ode to the Tulip
Every year I marvel more and more at how long it takes for the Aster and the Goldenrod to bloom. Think back to when you saw your first blossom of Spring. Maybe it was a Crocus against your house, or perhaps you spied Snowdrops in Central Park. But now, in the damp of an autumnContinue reading “In His Time”
Tomato plants in late June
don’t smell like anything
tomato plants in late June.
Singular unto themselves
their redolence subsists…
It’s the morning after the gala, and even the Cherry admits she overdid it this year. The Lilac’s purple litter has fallen and faded, and the King’s crown lies in state. The canopy’s canvas is bourgeoning with green— twenty different shades of verdancy gleam in fourteen splendored hours of sunlight. The blushing boughs of AprilContinue reading “The Greens of May”
I have an antique rose; She waits patiently for me. When I draw nigh with pruning shears, She utters not a plea. Her thorny branches twine in knots, They tangle by degrees. Yet when I start to thin them out, She neither fights nor flees. She stands in proud defiance, An indomitable foe; It’s ne’erContinue reading “I Have An Antique Rose”
I do not— when my feet at long last find Jordan’s verdant banks, in those fleetly fading moments between my final breaths, before the curtain falls upon my mortally shuffled coil— I do not want to there remember or know any reason to regret that I neglected or did not otherwise seize even a singleContinue reading “My Lilacs”
Pruning whispers a metaphor every spring, but this year it seemed to grab me by the face and look me directly in the eyes.