Azaleas at the Arboretum

Among Azaleas golden yellow,

creamy white, and crimson,

I seek the nectar of beauty.

The blooming trees billow their colors

along Bent Creek, which will not cease

its burbling praise of them.

I wind along the paths

scented with the clove of Rose Azalea,

beguiling with the musk perfume of Pinxter.

I forget my appointments, neglect my tasks!

I drift amid the blossom clouds

of Pinkshell, and of Flame Azalea,

sticking out their stamen tongues,

floating soft in sunlight.

By the end of the afternoon,

at last!

I, and the bees,

leave fully satisfied.

©Susa Silvermarie 2015

with thanks to the North Carolina Arboretum Azalea Garden