I
She holds
within her the secrets of white lotus. I consider
her smooth gestures,
each a graceful unfolding. But I am
a mere observer to such easy
splendor, can only
half imagine such delicacies. They unfold from between
her every phrase...words bearing seeded messages. She knows
I have
no patience for cultivating my unkempt garden,
yet she endures each
misplaced stone I thrown along the path.
II
A small yellow
weed bent over on a coarse stem, dreaming
of Egypt and night-blooming
bouquets, is domesticated...
welcomed inside a mystery. A sister-daughter
in opaline wonder,
trusted with the divine fragrance of women and flowers.
