Hunt out
bright blooms, big and small. 

Snip.

Clutch in
one hand, while

cutting with
the other. 

Feel the
prick of thorns.  Inside,

grab the new
turquoise vase with an hourglass figure. 

Fill it with
water – a tall, cool drink for thirsty stems.

Strip leaves.

Gather
again, first Spirea – pale pink and dusty mauve – 

then small white
flowers resembling Queen Ann’s Lace. 
Last,

three pale
roses almost 

spent. 

Sleep now as
night

falls across
yard and house and the tall, turquoise vase.

All night long, petals fall, dispersing perfectly
of their own accord.

Awaken to a
kitchen scattered with petals.  

Old, wooden kitchen island

transformed into
a lover’s bed, 

a wedding aisle strewn with pink.

Ah, love!

Love grew
beauty in the yard.

Love
gathered. 

Love
held. 

Love fell
and

spread of
its own accord. 

Love woos;

love gathers the gatherer.