Spring In Oregon by Kimberly Coverly
Dark brown twigs, the color of chocolate
Turn to the right, forming an oblong cylinder
Creeping vines, desperate to make a mark
Following the curves in the branches
Petals, ivory and champagne, sprinkle the structure
Icing on the cake
I used to decorate cakes, swirling my wrist
In that oblong motion, trying yet never succeeding
To get every indent from the buttercream.
Something always cuts through the imperfection.
Red, spiky flowers break through the large green leaves
Leaves shaped like hands and footballs,
Buds, too premature to burst with cardinal
Look like artichokes, just ripe enough to eat.
They always chuckled at the way I say ‘artichoke’
Telling the tale of Arty, doomed to death by choking.
I never figured out what was blocking his windpipe.
Was it those green leaves dipped in mayonnaise?
Or could he just be sinking in the stress of it all?
Sinking like the lilac buds, just noticeable through the
forest
Of forest green, branches criss-crossing elaborately.
Bursts of lavender, subtle yet unforgettable
Leave a mark on my mind,
And my taste buds on those hot summer nights,
Driving recklessly on hairpin turns,
Hot springs in vision and the unmistakable scent
Of lavender lemonade on our breath.
No comments:
Post a Comment