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