When you blast poppy orange
all over March like
an enthusiastic kid fixated
on that one color screaming
“Me! Me!” in the crayon box.

You are spitting up poppies everywhere
all at once with some stocky lupine
thrown in—both the lemon variety
and the vibrant purple,

not to mention the trees you’ve
coaxed into blossom
and the wisteria over my driveway
hanging like lacy lavender ornaments.
I look for them all year, aware
that too soon they will disappear
as so many other florals arise.

Oh, California, how I love you.
Spring reminds me how proud
I am to be one of your natives—
born and grown and thriving—
right here in this state showing
off so much of her golden
where I was long ago and
happily planted.