Rose of Sharon

I am a rose in the Plain of Sharon,
 the lily of the valleys. 

Ca. 2:1

White cup with scalloped rim

With a sip of hibiscus tea

Left in your bowl—sweet honey

Bee lure, tonight you will curl

Your skirts around you,

Drop to the dewy grass

So another of your siblings

Sleeping on your budded branch

Has room to unfurl 

In glory at the sunrise. 

Memory

"Of the five senses through which we experience life, 
scent unquestionably has the most power  to evoke memory." Hallmark 

Passing
The garden, I smell it

That musky smell of fruit,

Like perfume in a bottle. 

The leaves vining along the fence

Seem to have more 

Scent than the

Fast growing green melon

Still, I can smell it ripe.

I picture the bumpy rind

And orange insides

See them split, seeds 

Spooned out, sliced 

Into bite-sized pieces

At Grandma June's hand

Taste it sweet and summer sunny 

With my lunch—again at supper 

Again at breakfast with biscuits, 

Bacon, eggs, and Mayhaw jelly

I remember, more than smell,

Another day—long past

And crave it.

Schoolgirls

Happy bright faced girls

Ready for first day of school.

Before you lies mystery, raw 

Adventure of learning. Soon

You will be gobbling up books 

Full of words—traveling the world

Through history and geography,

Soon you will be able to add

Subtract, and you'll figure the days

To Christmas break and summer's

Happy return!

Leafhopper

Your leaf disguise only 

Works for the deafest birds;

You give yourself away 

With your interminable rasping 

Whistle. When summer is over

I will not miss your song

From the crape myrtle

Outside my bedroom window.

Dancers

Like ballerinas 

Beginners all tuffed in 

Sweet sugary-colored 

Tutus ready for a first 

Day of practice 

For an upcoming recital

Ready for mom's camera flash,

Stage lights and applause.

What fun!

Painted bunting

Like a bright bit of kite
Tangled in a tree's branches
Stop Mr. Bunting
Let me see your true colors:

Blue as the sky on a summer day

Red as a candied apple

Green as the leaves on the sycamore tree

Yellow as lemon pie

Sing and flit in the treetops

I will not give your hiding place away.

Come and eat at my feeder.

Bumblebee

"I bomme, as the bombyll bee dothe" John Palsgrave

Bombyll bee

Worker, to your duty

Spread life

Spread sunshine

Carry the pollen

Flower to flower

Bloom to bloom

Bumblebee

Zinnias

Orange that holds the sun

Pink like sticky candy 

Zinnias flee summer inside

To my windowsill

To drink from a canning jar

To cool from the 

Heated nights where
Moths visit their crowned heads.

Bouquet

In the morning a lily

Opens to the light

Curving pink petals

Arms overhead
Like a ballerina

Spinning on tiptoe

To music 

Greeting the day.

Apricot Rose

Apricots ripe from the orchard

I can smell them still and feel

Fuzzy nap, the color of peaches

Salmon. We wash them and dry. 

"Oh, gentle now", cut them in two

Pry out the pit with its almondy seed

Heat them in syrup and spoon into hot 

Glass jars for the canner to boil and seal

Mama lifts them from the bubbling water. 

They sit on a red-stripped kitchen towel

To cool. As I go on up to bed,

I stop to look at the stacked circles,

Touch the lids to check each seal—go

Dream to the spicy sweet summer smell.

Apricots ripe from the orchard;

I can smell them still.