The Art of Listening - by
Hunt out wild flowers,
reach out, not to pick them
but as an offer of intimacy.
flowers
Early conversations - by
When I used to shake a branch to douse your pram with blossom, was it a kind of caim, a ring of blessednessI tried to wrap you in? You chuckledtill your white curls shivered. Or when I lifted you right up close to the fragrant rose, was it to inoculate against all that iscrass and coarse? You pulledand crushed […]
The Easter Flower - by
And many thought it was a sacred sign,
And some called it the resurrection flower;
And I, a pagan, worshiped at its shrine,
Yielding my heart unto its perfumed power.
Dandelions - by
You clamour at my retina, a cascade / of cartwheels, demanding paint / from my palette
Paper Flowers - by
Just when the hash smokers are going out to shoplift Scotch eggs …
Flowers - by
I wanted to write an elegy
/ without flowers. I know they’re a requirement…
Three Awkward Ears - by
ice-burned tongues / clump into celestine’s / eye-blue spar
Garland for the Winter Solstice - by
Now, perched on this polar height
When all sap lies quiet and does not climb,
When all seems dead, I cultivate
The wild garden rioting in my memory
Blossom - by
There’s this life and no hereafter –
/ I’m sure of that
/ but still…
This Life - by
Each life echoing, acting out these myths: / going into darkness, re-emerging, wounds / and griefs healed over.
/ …
Keeping Orchids - by
The orchids my mother gave me when we first met
/ are still alive, twelve days later. Although
/
/ some of the buds remain…
Another Spring - by
If I might see another Spring,
/ I’d not plant summer flowers and wait:
/ I’d have my…