My garden stalks now with anemone,
the daughter of the wind in purple dress.
I never planted it. Love’s deity
anointed ground with tears of her distress
around the mortal she could not possess.
She made a monument of mauve and gold
that cools my heated eyes like a caress,
and forms a border soothing to behold.


This entry was posted in Flora, Home, Legends, Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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