Sunday, June 5, 2016
Let it rain - Poem: Petunias
I told Hannah the pharmacist when I picked up my tacrolimus that there was an incredible wind outdoors.
Went to K-Mart to pick up some plants.
All the above are in my front lamp post garden.
Ate breakfast at Weis Market. Here's what I learned.
The scrambled eggs are poured out of a carton. Otherwise they'd turn green.
The French toast is frozen Aunt Jemima. Delicious.
Trish, the deli manager, told me this. She was sitting in the cafe doing her paperwork.
The specter of Martha Stewart
hovered over the Willow Grove
K-Mart, as I drove, heart
thumping, to choose two flowers
to prettify my garden
and that of Grace
I was early and wove my
cart beneath a covered
roof searching for
Nolo contendre! My new
pal, Donelle, a black man
who's only been there a
while, hefted the white-clad
containers into my cart
Smell them! I said to Grace
as we stood on the
porch, while inside on the
sofa lay two beach towels with
Mickey Mouse and Ariel
the Princess which garnered affection.
For the first time ever, with the
specter of Martha Stewart hovering
overhead, I had enough "points" to
bring down my total.
Think me not mercenary - I am I am -
but we must deny our flaws - I saved
a dime, a nickel and three well-handled,
It were the sea-faring Phoenicians
who first thought of coins to trade
for bought goods. Too hard to lug
around cattle every time you wanted
to buy a amphora of wine.
From the steps of my front porch
this muggy day in June, five-
thousand years after the Phoenicians,
I focus on the petunias -
purple red and white, bowing with
the wind, and hope that my grand-
daughter, and, yes, she is grand,
finds pleasure in them, too.
Flowers, the hope of peace and
justice among humankind.