by Judith Trustone
Slender throats the promise of green,
verdant, velvet, voluptuous,
turgid buds bordering on bursting,
pretending not to notice each other
in neighboring balcony gardens.
Baptized by torrential showers,
gently nurtured to fullness at the call
of Grandmother Moon, her silver
shimmering sounding the call for
orgasms of openings trumpeting
the presence of delicate, delicious
fragrances that stir the soul to
remembering, soothing spirits sore
from planetary imbalance.
The delicate white flowers,
living only for a day, guide us
back into ourselves for a
nanosecond of rare stillness.
August 27, 2012