EVER ORCHID

Restless are the blooms
within winter’s spring
in memory
of sweet mystery
on a single spike
held in a hollow hand.

Aside a weighted heart
cosmic time
is past faraway
beyond the scent
of soul
under a vanilla sky.

Santa Ana winds
bring voice
to simple leaves
with parallel veins
in shimmering light
shielded from shadows.

Fiery florets,
waxed and moulded
to perennial perfection,
dream a smile
of silent delight
whispered long before
the dawn of dust
on the far side
of a graceful garden.

Only you,
ever orchid,
ever flower.

Forever Florine.

© JOHN PISCATELLA