Bouquet

June 17

BOUQUET

I love the flowers in my garden.  Their upkeep is my solemn trust.  With my shears, I must cut, clear and swift, the runners that detract from their health and structure.  When fruiting is heavy, I must spare the stalk and choose what stays and what needs to be taken.  I am scrupulous in my observation of form and function.  The bucolic scene thrives; the pageant of color sweeps the rows.  I bend to nurture and stretch to prune.  I pay over-much attention to the plucking and forget I need to bring the blooms home.

Allow a dark worldview to illuminate a lightness of spirit.

*

Tea Totaler

My alcoholism was anonymous

even while I was active.

My destruction was internal,

outside evidence kept to a minimum.

It is easy to understand why so many

from my past as well as my present

are shocked to see me a member

in good standing for a club they never saw

me pay the price to join.

But cost doesn’t always advertise in the public square.

I know the score, the numbers etched upon my soul.

I need to be well even if you didn’t know I am sick.

I take the medicine;

offer a smile to those who think it prophylactic

and keep upon my path.

Just because you didn’t know the contents of my bottle

doesn’t mean I didn’t earn the tag on my tea.