Love-in-a-mist, and a poem

You Thought My Mouth Your Remedy

You thought my mouth your remedy.

Well, the world survives even kisses

& tears & comes again to its own

birthday in a blur of white

The hyacinths are open, those sugared

flowers, star pillared

& temporary & the crocuses

licked with flames. Oh yes, I was shaken.

But it’s worth it, living

to watch these hills again

with my clear eyes, to see

the once-mated birds come back

all along the branches

I thought it was death, the dark

wood, but look: everywhere

These spinning Catherine wheels

this sexual present, petal

& stamen, unwrapped so perfectly

(yes, the flowers, although they are very much Catherine wheels, and are named the devil-in-hiding as well, are far from being the poem's hyacinths. But we take botanic license in my region. The photo is by my daughter, at the edge of the parking lot garden.)