To My Rangoon Creeper by Susan P. BlevinsThere’s a sadness to your fallen petals round my door your color faded, from bright red, to pink, to white, your heady fragrance almost dissipated in…See More
Propped boughs are heavy with apples,Springtime quite forgotten.Pears ripen yellow. The waspKnows where windfalls lie rotten.Juices grow rich with sun.These autumn days are still:The glassy river…See More
"The Geranium by Theodore Roethke
When I put her out, once, by the garbage pail, She looked so limp and bedraggled,
So foolish and trusting, like a sick poodle,
Or a wizened aster in late…"