A Writer Is Someone Who Has Written Today

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Life's Pattern

In a corner of my garden ... once overgrown profusion of green:
spade-shaped leaves, an ivy guarded by thorns.

I never walked too close, afraid
of tendrils capturing my ankle,
dragging me into itself –
then, never free, lost in that barbed lattice.

Strange plant.
On occasion, and only at night,
it burst into bloom.

Waxy, white petals,
surrounding a flower cup,
gleaming in the dark.

Each floral chalice

holding drops of fluid,
heavy with unbearably sweet, hot scent.

For a season, this plant tangled around my heart.
And then, within life’s pattern,

died back.

I work in my garden,

potting and pulling spent flowers off vines.
Glancing at times

to where that plant thrived.

Nothing grew there.

Until today.


Blogger still life said...

what is it...moonbeam?

12:23 PM

Blogger mireille said...

if that's what you see. and that's lovely. xoxo

1:23 PM


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