Posts Tagged ‘plants’



It’s not that they are hiding—

it’s more that they know

the power of a red dress.

Between slabs of red sandstone,

the tiny yellow green flowers

of the desert paintbrush

decorate themselves

with bright red bracts,

colorful flame-like spears

that attract butterflies,

hummingbirds and bees.


It’s what we do to survive,

those of us born plain,

those of us otherwise ignored.

I think of the homely girl I was

who wanted to wear

gold combs in her hair

to the middle school dance,

as if something shiny and bright

might attract the honey boys.


I want to go back to that gym

with its streamers and balloons

and take the gold combs

out of her mousy brown hair

and tell her the brightest parts of her

are inside. I want to tell her

that being a small green

and yellow flower

will serve her.


I want her to know

that a day will come

when she’ll walk in the desert

and feel so at one

with the cliffs and the scrub brush,

the lichen and the Mormon tea,

and that in that moment

when she loses her sense of herself

and merges with slickrock

and paintbrush and sky

it is then she will be most beautiful.

Read Full Post »




This, too, is love, the way the beans

reach for the fence, the way the fence

does not leave the garden. The way

plants long to be touched—how

it keeps them from growing spindly

and weak. How the spider plant

on the shelf drops tiny white petals

into the cups. You could say it’s just

nature doing what nature does.

I prefer to call it love, the sunflowers

nodding their brown faces east every

morning, the lilies of the valley

spreading their generous perfume.


Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: