Elsie's Garden

Elsie's Garden

Drove up to Elsie's garden, my head in the radio,

counting measures and checking forms.

I raise my eyes just to park and...

Jolted into Eden, an ecstasy of brilliant color, 

as with a cold slap I'm awakened.

These irises (the eyes?) are a queen's purple, a ransom of gold,

fringed, bearded, double ruffled about their delicate mouths,

waiting for me, lush as Sheba.

Lemon yellow bearded coral, glacier white fringed,

all with a calligraphy of magenta.

Rust-red and egg-yolk yellow.

I regain my breath, and big tears, here in Elsie's garden.

Tante, at ninety-two, fosters this ecstasy of color,

and scent of peony, double, triple, magenta and snow.

As I go to knock at the door,

I breathe deep, remembering the grace of my DNA,

the colors, the purple, saying "this is me,"

my old Tante in her garden,

pulling a miracle of flowers from the unsuspecting soil,

this is me, I weep, I love, I remember, I belong.

Annelinde Metzner copyright 2006

(photo by Patty Levesque)