Saturday, February 18, 2012

and the poppies die


I know nothing of poppies
(or any plant) -- but I have so admired
these proud, red perfect ones—my early spring
companions—just beyond the window.

for the last three weeks? If that?

startling then, when I descended the stairs
this morning, with no peripheral red
in the window. none

no standing tall as before. the poppies!

the moderate spring rain turned petals
to leaden weights; took them to the ground
last night.

heartbroken I am,

after only weeks?

so silly. just flowers.

and the automatic swirl of despair
around my heart.


later in the day, I'm told,
"they would have died anyway.
the growing season is so short."


O my life;

what to do with these constant, tiny griefs?