Photo by Tricia Knoll.
Here in Colorado, where there’s only a tease, a mere hint of green in early March, it’s hard to imagine parts of the country–and the world–now blooming in technicolor. Tricia Knoll shows us what is going on in Oregon with a poem she wrote last night. In an accompanying note she remarked that on Saturday, as she texted her daughter in Vermont images of daffodils, her daughter was purchasing rock salt for her icy sidewalk.
–Sandra Knauf
Pink Camellia Bloom
Bud an ovoid vow
to open overnight.
Stared in the face,
fibonnaci series swirls.
To the fingertip
silk-rouged flesh.
Upside down flirt
of a square-dance skirt.
Hold to the nose
cold, wet.
Vased up on the desk,
a fastly falling mess.
Let scatter to earth
to brown down
mere worm food
like all the rest.
* * *
Tricia Knoll is a Portland, Oregon poet who has maintained gardens all her life, sowing the seeds of sanity. She grew up admiring her mother’s roses and vegetable garden. She is an Oregon State University Master Gardener and volunteers at Portland’s Washington Park Rose Test Garden. Her chapbook Urban Wild is available from Amazon and focuses on interactions between humans and wildlife in urban habitat.
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