(An ode to the Rhododendron at sunset)
They gather in the shadows of the garden…
their delicate petticoats rustling in the chilly gusts of early Spring.
Their crimson hearts race with excitement as he slowly descends upon them.
“See how his face shines!” Says Rhoda in a hushed whisper.
“Oh I could die in such an embrace!” Dendra blurts unabashedly.
Giggles and sqealls ring like church bells as his grandness leans in to plant shameless kisses upon the blushed cheeks that worship his presence.
Anticipation rewarded, they bask in the warmth of his touch,
such a touch that, in an instant, could become so fierce and brutal as to devastate,
yet in these final seconds of a day grew painfully gentle, alluring and soft.
Within each blooming breast beats the heart of pure joy for his presence and therein rests the hope for his return;
for this is their grand moment of sweet sorrow when he must leave them again.
“There he goes,” bemoans sweet Flora, stretching to the tippiest her toes can reach, knowing his parting will be swift and silent-
and oh so bittersweet.
Ladies-always in waiting-for the coming and going of their life-giving, cruel, comforting, steadfast king.
And when, at dusk, thy face shall sink,
You leave me with a nod and wink,
I shall not weep,
long as you keep
your promise that with every morrow,
you rise again to ease my sorrow.
“My heart is yours, please keep it well,”
she prayed as from the sky he fell.
Words and images copyright CKP 2018
Have a brilliant weekend my friends.
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