How the Flowers

Roses, five of tender yellow
against a sprig of forest pine.
While centers yet hug close,
outer petals dare to flare.
Their gallantry takes me
straight to my softness.

How the flowers in their vases comfort me.
Now, they breathe. Now.

An elegant stem,
two blooms open full
in lavender satin. Lilies
lift their spread syllables
in silent song.
Their inward parts,
reaching high and proud,
glitter the air with trust.

How the flowers comfort me.
Now, they breathe. Now.

Creamy nardos,
in clusters, on long stalks,
blooms that entice like a lover’s bed.
A scent forbidden to Victorian girls
lest it carry them to ecstasy,
brings me
breathing deeply
to this only moment.

How the flowers comfort me.
Now, they breathe. Now.

A single sunflower,
healing and ebullient,
tells me, as Helen Keller says,
to “Keep your face to the sunshine
and you cannot see the shadow.”
And so I do,
I do what sunflowers do.

Oh how the flowers comfort me.
Now, they breathe. Oh, now.

©Susa Silvermarie 2021