When my grandmother grew too
everything
to garden
we would sneak into her yard and
carefully plant flowers that would
appear miraculously
when she looked out her window
we became ambitious – not
just the instant blooms but an
entire spread of bulbs to outwait
the cold in her bones and heart
in spring
there was nothing
only the tunnels of fat voles
rich on our
generosity
Gladiolus – GenerosityEvery May (and sometimes into June), I do a series of poems based on Victorian flower meanings. Welcome to the Darling Buds.
For more generosity (and lack of generosity), my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.
Cat Amesbury 