On the Burden of Flowering
Even the cactus wren
surrenders itself
to the task,
though it rarely listens
to my voice. How do clouds
blossom day to day
and leave so little
behind? The bookless shelf
begs to be filled, but instead
I watch the morning age
as the sun arcs higher.
Yesterday you said
the mint marigold
was dying. Today it
stands tall. Yellowing.
“On the Burden of Flowering” first appeared in Panoply in August 2016, and is included in my chapbook, From Every Moment a Second.
O at the Edges 
To “watch the morning age” truly appeals … and why not? I might learn more therein than reading yet another (and another!) article on COVID conditions seen through the eyes of scientists and politicians. The Sun might offer a more pliable perspective.
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I’ve not watched many mornings age lately, but hope to commence sometime soon. There’s something about a new home that requires attention. Things to be assembled. Things to install. But the tasks are so satisfying,
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Sounds like you’ve moved in – hoorah!
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Yes! I don’t know how we managed to cram so much stuff into a tiny apartment. Now we’re trying to arrange things for maximum comfort and ease of use. Much fun.
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