artwork: giuseppe de nittis
Hibiscus
Blooming
by
Hope McLeod
Having
not bloomed for three years
my
hibiscus burst forth
with
a single, kimono-orange plume
a
sign perhaps that our dog's passing
would
be a smooth one.
As
we held her she sang three fetching notes
like
a Tibetan monk chanting
or
a conch shell blowing
to
warn us of a fast approaching vessel.
As
the day darkened
as
the flower shriveled
we
wrapped our old puppy in bed sheets
and
wondered
will
we be that lucky
to
have the other nearby
to
stroke our soft ears
as
we birth into death
to
give each other room to sing
whatever
needs to be sung
whatever
needs to be done
to
close up our lives
like
a summer cabin for winter
like
a gentle flower
bending
its petals inward
after
a long day of blooming.
~
previously published in The Place We
Begin
(Herd
a Word)
