late into the winter,
the hellebores sprang from sleeping gardens—
and we marveled at their beauty and their hopefulness
In the Late Winter
Tag Archives: flowers
Beautiful Yellow Things
sunflowers drying in the afternoon sun
amber honey poured into hot ginger tea
reflective golden sunsets
ripe sensual pears in a chipped bowl
single citrine leaves on bare trees
Purple Thoughts
the lilac light seeps into twilight dreams—
a velveteen cape, a basket of plums, a violet crystal,
lavender stalks swaying in foreign fields
The Portal Hour
(glass sculptures by Hans Godo Frabel displayed at Phipps Conservatory, Pittsburgh PA)
3:00 a.m. —
the portal hour between worlds,
those who sleep
and those who do not
Lately: in my head
memories of flowers — paper whites in a window, elegant, tall gladiolas, dried roses in a wooden bowl
this song: You’re No Good, the Linda Ronstadt version
these words: petrichor (thank you Brian) and elysian
black horses in my dreams, wild dogs, the woods and snow clouds
the sound of a relentless rain on a sleepless night
winter, spring, summer and fall sunsets — how different they look and how different they feel
Two Thoughts
thought number 1:
how many more days will the bee have to land on Dahlias this fall?
thought number 2:
how many more days will she have to watch the bees land on Dahlias in the fall?
Sharpened Edges
A Little List of Things I Like
i like roses in a whiskey bottle,
and wine in jelly jars,
things that are old and worn and torn,
motorcycles and vintage cars
Random Thoughts on a Walk
there is the man with the three german shepherds–i pull my own pup away from them, passing the little free library, i see that peter rabbit is keen to be chosen by someone’s tiny curious hands and i think about my own children and how they’ve grown, and how i love them more than i could have ever imagined loving–how watching them fly away and watching them become such good and kind people has been so joyful, but there, a butterfly flits from one stem to another and its soft yellow beauty transfixes me in the moment as i stop to listen to the humming of the bees–juliet pulls on her leash and i see the grey neighborhood cat approaching, so i walk onto the uneven bricks, crossing the street near the bright purple garden, close to where i once photographed a smashed can of orange crush
Lyrics from the song Bella Donna
And the woman may be awestruck
And the woman may truly care
But the woman is so tired
So the woman disappears
Come in out of the darkness
Bella Donna my soul
Don’t change, baby please don’t change
from the album, Bella Donna by Stevie Nicks, 1980
spanishwoods 