State of Emergency

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.

Series Navigation← In the Convent of Perpetual AdorationStorm Warning →

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