I spent an hour snipping flower stems,
hundreds of green stalks, some thick
but tender and others thin and
dense as sticks. I pulled out each
bundle, released the most delicate
from webbed coverings, and the room
filled with a heavy floral scent.
As I sat amid the profusion of hues,
deep fuchsia, rich purple, soft ivory
topping the spray of verdant leaves,
I dreamed of lush Eden before fall,
back when we lived in a blooming
ever-spring with no winter at all.
—C.L. Fisher, September 2020
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Poetic Meanderings 