For Mom on her 92nd birthday

•••

There are always flowers for those who want to see them.
—Henri Matisse

So many times after I pull into your driveway,
walk through the garage and up the three
steps into the house, you’ll announce,

Did you see the azaleas? The bush is loaded!
And it’s true—your yard is once again
a profusion of blossoms, dozens of frilly pink

tutus dancing in the breeze, camellias
drooping like heavy breasts, or geraniums
bursting into petaled rubies. You’ll remind

me to head into the backyard to admire
the sweet roses popping from bushes like
boutonnieres ready for a buttonhole—

so many and so welcome after the winter
that watered this current explosion of floral
enthusiasm lasting into summer. We can’t

help but exclaim, as if we’ve never seen such
abundance leaking from every living thing—
Look at that! and that! and, oh… that!

I learned this from you; I do it, too, in my
own yard, as I walk my neighborhood,
gushing over the loveliness—you who

taught us to gather every bit of beauty
into our hearts and let it bloom in us,
regardless of the season, to praise it

and let it lift us in gratitude.