Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Below Morning's EdgeThe cannas have begun to show,
a paradox of petaled sunrise
risen atop stoic stalks
leaves held together, as always,
slipped inside one another like
pages of poetry - twisted,
hidden in the dark crescent
below morning's edge.
For long months of Carolina summer
they stand proud, May through September.
I wonder, come the third Thursday
if the thanks they give is for the fall,
for the chance, at last, to let the sun set.
Are they glad to loose their curled secrets,
to lay them down and sleep?
posted by Erin @
8:27 PM
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