A List Of "Beautiful" Words: Orange

Fresh Laundry

Spring waits in my closet,

A cool-weather jacket at the ready

Washed fresh with the winter rains

Dried in the chilled breeze.

I slide off my woolen coat of winter and

Set it to the side for the summer's dreams.

My last chance for sweaters has passed,

And now is the time of the budding.

I take the hanger and slide the season

Off its mooring. The linen is delicate from

Years of washes, from changes in climate,

From the long wait and the ecstatic fever.

I sheath my arms in spring's sleeves

Its shivery fabric pricking my heat-adapted skin.

The delight of a comfortable afternoon and cool

Night will never get old.

Desert Cherry Blossom

Under lacey shade and golden rain

Desert cherry blossom trickles

Bright desert light onto a bed of pebbles.

A verdin hops branches, calling all the time

Honeyed warble from blue-green twigs.

Florid sprigs along crooked boughs,

Silken sun-drops flit to the ground.

Bees delight in their bounty,

Bobbing from petals, bringing new life.

Soon, these skirts are traded for

Seeds, their pods forage for locals.

Gifts abound from smooth-barked

Florida, this Parkinsonia blessing

All who alight in and around her

Resplendent wings.

Mostly rice with a bit of chicken

It was only a few weeks,

Shopping at the local

Asian foods store.

Getting used to having

No car to shop with,

Packing a week's worth

Of groceries into a single

Backpack.

We ate mostly rice and

Vegetables with a bit of

Diced chicken for a bit of

Protein, once a week.

Bone-hungry and sick,

Despair set in.

"I want my mom" I said.

I didn't want her often,

Or even at all since leaving.

But after a few weeks of

Rice with nothing,

Anything seemed better

Than waiting for the anemia

To set in.

P.S.

(I didn't call my mom. We relented and subscribed to Walmart's delivery service and now we're doing okay)

Before you a love song never took shape 

never blinked at me with blue-green eyes,

never stabbed me. 

Before you a breakup song never 

laid on my shoulder

and cried with me 

Your love made it all make sense. 

This is why teardrops were on guitars. 

This was why la vie was en rose. 

I only wish I had left love

safely buried

on pages and stanzas.

The ducks by Stonegate

A pair of mallards sits on a

Manicured stone by an

Artificial fountain

Ah, the massive continuity of ducks

Here there be lakes,

(Or ponds, or even fountains)

Here there be ducks.

Clean

Nourishment

Bittersweet