Hmmmm.

[Guest guest]

In the essence and presence,

meanderings and identification

of who I have declared myself,

I am unfit to resolve how birds and

butterflies fly

nor do I understand how the climate

acclimates to a January winter in Ohio,

the how and why

my lilies-of-the-valley have a three-inch

growth, though some say there is a global warming,

 

This year my deep purple Phaphiopedilum with the yellow dots,

has two flowers, one is in full bloom, the other is just growing,

last year they did not bloom, though I always have names for

them, as this flower reminds me of the Martian in the old Looney Tunes cartoons.

 

I think I'll call the big fellow Fred #2, and the little one, well, when

she's a little older, I'll listen to her name. Did you know some tribes of

American Indians never gave names?

And my small red cyclamen is growing very well in my cold

bedroom though the new flowers are growing pink and white.

 

So in the matter of how flowers grow, I can say I have become my

Poem, my own flowering and I seem to have a lot in common with lilies

orchids and hibiscus.

 

I have grown into my Poet skin, quite well indeed, with all my variations

Of colour as well as shades in light and dark. And if I should die tonight, I

shall have called a truce in my life; I shall have loved enough and drank well

from this chalice,

Though much of it I have drunk in Absentia. Looking for myself in places I have

Called " You " .

 

Today shall have been a good day to die, to pass away softly in the night.

 

Please do not bring me flowers, just listen to your still-beating heart, and

notice the skip.

 

 

 

 

Love,

Ana