From July 21, 2012



Cut them down 
If you want them 
To come back full 
Next year. 

This is my father's advice
And his practice
Every year
Except last year
When Nature
Tore summer down
With her two big hands
Her sharp teeth
Her cloven hooves
And her icy breath that burned like fire.

Y'ever seen so many flowers on those trees?
Dad asked me today.
As snow--heavy, wet, deep--caved in the memory of 
A long and early winter that broke my heart, 
I said,
No.

Today's Flowers