Unfixed from inside a whorl of petals,
the rain-drenched eye of each blossom.
Large as the state of Texas, gestures
the weatherman. The hurricane’s blossom
of jagged exclamations whips across the Bahamas.
Each tree’s reduced to a trembling blossom.
First the fires, then the earthquake, then
promise of torrential rain. All things blossom
in their own time. The evening primrose
leaves turn barn-red. Omen or blossom?
Everyone’s panic-buying. Water and dry food.
Or beer. Someone jokes, Where’s the onion blossom?
Stay or go? Save or shelve? Pictures in a plastic
box. Deeds. The child’s first drawing of a blossom.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.