The Scent of a Single Iris
The scent of a single iris
renders me a drunken bee.
Indigo edges
scallop each white dream.
Caterpillar tongues
languid lie
on three spread petals.
Between them,
smaller petals cup and touch,
and lift a purple wonder.
On either side of the blossoming queen,
two yet bound in bud
waft promise.
I cannot bow enough!
©Susa Silvermarie 2015
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