Each petal of wisteria appears
a miniature orchid, scaling white
through lavender to purple. Lavalieres
of lacy petals dangle in the light:
spangled pixies on the new chartreuse
of leaves unfurling. Underneath that berth
a clutch of irises, like Ws
on verdant sticks, erupt from umber earth,
and punctuate the intervening air.
I sweep from side to side my tinted glance,
my ring-pierced ears – as fond of trite as rare,
collecting all expressions on the chance
a flower speaks, a squirrel stands, or birds
begin the alchemy of finding words.