Gardens

wisteria

The exercise was fourteen lines from me
today. I sought a topic for my pen,
and thought to draw the angry energy
my daughter broadcasts often and again.
Except as I set out to catch a phrase,
my net attention trolling for conceit,
I f und myself distracted by the sprays
of rhododendron blooming on each street.

Beloved’s anger takes on rosy hue,
and vernal purple carries her contempt.
Her harshest judgment melts to April dew
as freesias waft the scent of something dreamt
by lavender wisteria, or birds
that sip the salvia, eluding words.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetry, Weather. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s