Today's prompt was to write something ala the New York School. I've never been to NYC, and to be honest, I'm not certain I'd like to go. So here's something completely different, inspired by a moment's glance at a fleabane blossom yesterday.
There are times when I’m lulled
Into believing that I’ve forgotten
About you, but there you are,
Appearing in the sweetest of spaces,
The moments when my mind wanders.
We were stopped at a red light
On Pecan and 23rd, across
From the crumbling police station,
When I looked out the passenger window
And saw you on the side of the road
And something took my breath away.
You weren’t the wrinkled woman
Inching towards the crosswalk,
Nor the raspa stand, the chamoy-stained
Lips of a child. You weren’t the tall weeds,
The wild guinea grass, the drifting blossoms
Of wild olives, so white and numerous
You’d almost think they’re springtime snow.
You were there, nestled in the dust,
in the unexpected smiles of fleabane buds,
Their alabaster petals arching like the back
Of a lover, you were the eye, a surprise of gold,
erect and waiting for the brush of a honeybee’s toe
against its pollen-heavy disk.