The simple but potent beauty of a flower.
The way some openly smile, the way some blush,
the way some take their time, the way some rush.
A flower is reason enough for a party.
A flower is reason enough for a thrill.
We bloom and we bloom,
and we stave off the doom.
At the end of it all
If we’re lucky we zoom
to the high crest of the thing, to the ridge of the petals,
to the beard of an iris or the prick of a nettle.
Another story is about to be told
and the language of flowers is sometimes secret.
In whispered dew drops
Invisible perfume
In lace-caps and umbrels
Leaves pointed and smooth
An army of thorns
Bitter sting of a vine
Sweet fragrance entwined
The garden untamed,
the garden unclaimed
leave nothing unnamed
leave nothing unblamed
Marry antique roses
To wise, merry lavender
Floral mingling
Pungent tingling
The kind of mid-afternoon
Mid-summer
Ripe for a Flower Party…
