I can still call your phone
and hear your voice mail.
And so I do, I call it,
and the low tones
of your familiar voice
reach all the way in
and squeeze my lungs.
This is you know who.
We are you know where.
Leave your you know what
you know when.
I hang up at the beep,
and then I’m gasping,
choking, making sounds
I don’t recognize.
And then the house is quiet.
The ache is like a time lapse
of a rose in bloom—
first clenched, then
opening and opening
and impossibly opening,
then fading, then dropping away.
Every day a new bouquet
of ways I miss you.
Today, I miss the deep
song of your voice
how it opens in me
fragrant, like home.
Posts Tagged ‘flower’
Today I Realize
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged flower, grief, phone, time lapse, voice on December 27, 2021| 12 Comments »
The Strange Glasses of Grief
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged flower, grief, orchid, plant, seeing on December 17, 2021| 4 Comments »
The orchid on the mantle
dropped a flower today.
Only one white flower now
on the tall twin stems,
it’s petals more droop than bloom.
But how did I not notice
both spikes have grown
new three-inch stems
with clusters of new buds
growing from them?
How often do I focus
on what’s dying and dead
instead of seeing what’s
thriving and madly alive?
Even though I was taking care
of this orchid every day,
I managed not to see.
World, I am wanting
to take off my blinders.
World, please keep teaching me.
Shade Loving
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged blossoming, flower, shade, shadow on August 9, 2021| 4 Comments »
Bless the astilbe, the hellebore,
the hydrangea, bless the lobelia,
the bright impatiens—
it is no small thing to grow,
more notable still to grow in the shade—
to not only grow but to flower,
to bring color to the dark.
I take it to heart, the fuschia hanging
in the shadow, cascading
deep pink bells all summer long.
Oh tough beauty, teach me
the art of thriving in regions
where light is scant,
where light is not.
Teach me to bring to the world
the beauty
I wish to find.
Perennial
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged flower, friendship, kindness, sweetness on July 20, 2021| 1 Comment »
Sometimes even a small sweetness—
a kind word, a kind act—
is robust enough to take root,
and though its perfume soon fades
and its petals wither,
the roots persist so years later
when you least expect it,
there in a forgotten field,
or perhaps in your own well-tended yard,
you catch the scent of sweetness
and follow it until you find again
the fragrant bloom of it, not at all
diminished by time. No, maybe sweeter
because it was forgotten.
Sweeter because with roots like that,
you now trust it will come back again.
One Hopeful
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged flower, lilac, patience on June 17, 2020| Leave a Comment »
This Desperate Week, the Orchid Reminds Me
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bud, Corona Virus, flower, hope, orchid, renewal on March 19, 2020| 3 Comments »
It looked dead, the orchid.
After long extravagant glory,
the blossoms dropped quickly,
one by one. The stem shriveled,
dried. Every time I looked at it,
all I saw was what wasn’t there.
People said it would reset.
They said it needed rest,
a little bit of extra care.
But eight months later,
the plant still looked dead.
There are times we lose hope.
Times when our eyes tells us
we’re fools to believe beyond
what we see here now.
But from what seemed
like nothing, a long dark stem
appeared, lined with buds.
And what a fool I was to doubt,
to let the eyes lie to me.
Already they’ve remembered how to see
what will be. Already they remember
how to see the beauty
of exactly what is here.
The Big Vase
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged flower, friendship on March 4, 2020| 2 Comments »
What is friendship but the ground beneath
the melting snow, the earth that is present
regardless of drift or grass or garden or wasteland.
A friendship is a flower that thrives
whether it is watered or not.
It is the flame that cooks the soup and does not ask
to be included on the menu as an ingredient.
And it burns through months, through decades,
burns, long after one might have thought the fuel
would have run out.
It would seem like a miracle, the way true friendship
survives, except it’s so commonplace—
the persistent warmth, the inextinguishable glow.
And if friends are torn apart—perhaps by years,
perhaps by circumstance—what is friendship then
but an enormous vase with a wide enough mouth
to hold those separate stems over space, over time,
and still call them a bouquet.
When the Impulse Is to Grieve
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, cinquefoil, flower, grief, parenting, poem, poetry on November 9, 2019| 2 Comments »
Now dried and brown
the cinquefoil where once
bees danced in gold flowers—
recalibrating the heart
to find in brittle clusters
another invitation to dance.
One Freedom
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged flower, garden, meditation, poem, poetry, stillness, transformation on September 6, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Staring at the Penstemon, the Scarlet Gilia
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beauty, flower, poem, poetry, surrender on August 3, 2019| Leave a Comment »
A flower in the field
is always changed by rain.
It is never indifferent
to sun. Even the slightest
of breezes will bend it,
will rearrange. An ant
walks through its center—
now so much more is possible.
It never pretends
to be unaffected by the world.
I have so much to learn
from the flowers of the field,
how they never turn their backs—
they don’t even have backs.
How they withstand hail
and flood and snow and chill
and still, they bloom,
they spill seeds, they
bring all the beauty they can.