Late, luscious from drenching
winter rains, plummy clusters
punctuate the grass, bell-like,
slightly sour (so they say) tiny
displays of intricate essence,
much-awaited signs of spring,
wine-bound somewhere
like dandelions, but not here,
purpling our full forty acres
with a slight smell of mildew.
~~~
Our land is full of edible things we don’t eat, from the corn crop in the back field to fragrant magnolia blossoms and grape hyacinths. Every year I say I’ll pick the pawpaws and persimmons, but mosquitos and raccoons get there first. Maybe this year…
Inspired by prompts from Robert Lee Brewer and dVerse.
Yes, and every Spring I tell myself I’ll buy a mower and do my own acreage, but then I think about how much Jerry could really use the money, and how much time NOT mowing my own space will free up so that i can sit at my keyboard, and decide to just enjoy the green instead of maintaining it.
Great space; thanks for letting me visit!
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Some of us are meant to mow and some are meant to write about it!
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Here’s to the wine of life, here’s to you Denise!
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Cheers!
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How wonderful you have so much surrounding you. Lovely write.
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I miss Arizona though!
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I am a native Texan, but have lived here so long, Arizona is home. ❤
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We have grape hyacinths in our garden. They look lovely but have no scent. I love the alliterative phrase ‘plummy clusters punctuate the grass’ and the thought that they are ‘wine-bound somewhere like dandelions’.
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Thanks for your encouragement. Our grape hyacinths have the advantage of numbering in the thousands to combine their scents.
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Lovely poem but I cannot take credit for the prompt. That’s from Robert Lee Brewer’s Write Better Poetry blog.
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2021-april-pad-challenge-day-5
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Thanks for the clarification.
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Beautifully composed poem …..
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Thank you!
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Reblogged this on ….Bilocalalia…. and commented:
We’ve been complaining that spring is late, but the grape hyacinths are earlier than they were last year.
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[…] the squirrels, and black walnuts for the racoons’ patient paws. Deep in the woods where the pawpaws grow, I’ve seen the flat rock still strewn with bits of shell, and even the paw-sized rock tool […]
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