flowers – tinywords

Street vendors selling flowers for other men’s wives

day at the park picnic blankets blanketed with cherry blossoms

first thaw pink petals in the elevator

riverside wedding — the flower girl picks a dandelion

snatched by the wind, my check zips past the daffodils — I almost let it go

something less than the speed of light camellia blossoms

the junkyard crane grabs another car— wind-tossed poppies

Her last summer each day brings a new flower

summer’s end lilies pointing toward earth

last bloom— closing the shears

heat wave at the big city flower market ten thousand shades of radiant yellow

a gardener on the radio smells the jasmine

white phlox blossoms daring the frost

shadows fold within shadows of the rose

again and again a little girl makes it rain cherry blossoms

an old woman sweeps the walk of cherry blossoms children’s laughter

fireworks at twilight forsythia

the curve of her hips— buttercups

this delicate rain the petal makes a typo of a gravestone date

cherry blossoms I fold my resume into a crane (haiga)

first recital all the ballerinas out of step (haiga)

end of day three snails devour one blossom

attention standing tall in a stiff breeze ixias

just this morning the first magnolia buds opening— my mother’s unwed initials on the suitcase she brought east

anniversary roses in a vase drying together

the climb over barbed wire… trumpet vine