Black Iris VI

  “Nobody sees a flower, really…we haven’t time – and to see takes time,
like to have a friend takes time.”

— Georgia O’Keefe

I wasn’t looking for a friend,
here in this rich man’s private garden
thrown open to the masses for a few days,
and yet I found you.

Cousin to the sea of black irises
that grew behind the white clapboard
victorian era army house where I grew up,
the ones that swayed in the wind
like drunken sailors at a beach party.

Bolder than the fire dancers on Oahu,
hairy and loose-lipped like Elvis,
long-stemmed, thick-rooted,
they all competed for attention.
How could anyone not see them?

I guess the same way
we don’t see friends
for years and years
until we run into them
at a garden party.

4 responses to “Black Iris VI

  1. Beautiful. Makes me think of gardens past and future. Just last night I saw some green stalks pushing up through the sopping mulch. Winter is all around, but spring isn’t far behind.

    • Thanks Alan. I can finally see the days getting longer, even with all this rain where we live. I’m looking forward to seeing flowers again that aren’t flown in from far away.

  2. Good poems teach us how to see, and remind us when we’ve forgotten.

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