Black Iris VI

  “Nobody sees a flower, really…we haven’t time – and to see takes time,
like to have a friend takes time.”

— Georgia O’Keefe

I wasn’t looking for a friend,
here in this rich man’s private garden
thrown open to the masses for a few days,
and yet I found you.

Cousin to the sea of black irises
that grew behind the white clapboard
victorian era army house where I grew up,
the ones that swayed in the wind
like drunken sailors at a beach party.

Bolder than the fire dancers on Oahu,
hairy and loose-lipped like Elvis,
long-stemmed, thick-rooted,
they all competed for attention.
How could anyone not see them?

I guess the same way
we don’t see friends
for years and years
until we run into them
at a garden party.

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4 responses to “Black Iris VI

  1. Beautiful. Makes me think of gardens past and future. Just last night I saw some green stalks pushing up through the sopping mulch. Winter is all around, but spring isn’t far behind.

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    • Thanks Alan. I can finally see the days getting longer, even with all this rain where we live. I’m looking forward to seeing flowers again that aren’t flown in from far away.

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  2. Good poems teach us how to see, and remind us when we’ve forgotten.

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