Tender Shoots

Whoever encouraged that delectable entity to stop over
there and smell the flowers, did not take into account those
free range pythons of yours angling in the sea of dark ferns. 

It is the sheer and endless pleasure of those flowers that have us
casting off to the wind our mourning weeds.
Meanwhile you do me untold kindnesses writing words on me, coming

out again and again to greet the morning,
but hadn’t you better get up that tree waiting nearby for your flight
to another time-zone?  Thanatos is peeling away those tender shoots

stained with sleep, peeling them away
-- you could divine as much, but who would have thought
a rip-tide surged through so much placidness as a day like this

inviting us to deeper reflection.  Cinnamon.
And crushed rose petals the color of Wednesday’s sky
after sunset.