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The Neighbor’s Azaleas
Solid color, each bloom straining to blot out
its cousin’s space,
They struck me as I walked by, accusing me of
not stopping,
Chastising me for not pausing on my walk to
savor them,
To savor their color beyond description—
An off-white mauve and not yet off-white
And not yet mauve,
shading over into a
light white
Matching the color of angels’ wings,
Baffling me as I stood there in the early
morning air,
Breathing in their beauty.
-March 19, 2013
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