bleeding camellias

march flurries storm— spiraea cluster in tight-white fistfuls; lemon wafts from sweet breath-of-spring, cool drips of honeysuckle. iris reticulata!— a purple-tread carpet, my low-lying lent; jonquils and daffodils trumpet white-peach-orange tones; but I yield to conical shade where a deep-blush camellia clings to morning and a companion downturns bell-like, ruffled by golden rot; a season-sink, […]

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That Golden Time

Three decades ago, I would have spurned Mr. Nimoy’s comment about “perfect moments.” I was in thrall to the existential belief that perfect moments do not exist. As humans, we constantly rewrite history. Our lens changes as we witness birth, life, death. My father’s death last September brought me to a garden of perfect moments. […]

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