the dahlias are blooming
with their pinks peaches yellows creams
i water them
stray drops splash my legs
refreshing in the heat of a summer day
my daughter stands near
gets splashed too and
we gaze at the blooms
some full
some tight in buds
waiting
some, too, are browning wilting fading and
i pluck these {which concerns my tender girl}
i assure her it needs doing
this plucking pruning paring
this making space for new growth
this redirecting of energy which allows
full expression
she is unconvinced, i think
but accepts my answer
stands with me the water the dahlias
silently i consider {and i think she considers too}
what it means to pluck
what it means to make room
what it means to redirect and allow for fullness
what is entailed in this business of
blooming
sending a little love your way, m
Filed under: photography, poetry
