The small azalea, potted
on my porch, draped
in wilted clippings ripped
from neighbors nearly killed
by that frost insists
on budding, perhaps mourning
the red ribbon removed
on Twelfth Night. Bloom
I whisper and chase
these winter blues away.
Poetry Poem New Orleans winter azalea flowers
Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts
Red Against Blue
Posted by
Mark Folse
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