A Bouquet of Mothers
First, a vase, tall and lean, thick and wide,
bodaciously curvaceous, glass, ceramic, brass.
Babies breath a delicate flower, an accent
to her beauty. Named for the joy of her heart,
like sweet kisses on her breast. Forget-me-nots,
cornflowers, and blue irises. Dried roses
from your funeral and memories of laughter.
Yellow roses and lavender hydrangeas.
You knew all their names and wondered why
I couldn’t get past lavender and lilac.
Violet geraniums in a bed of pink primroses –
mom’s pandemic garden! My dearest mother,
gone three decades, you loved rust
chrysanthemums, so I always get them for you.
How the big pink peonies grew for you!
Under the cypress trees. And how the big black ants
loved them too. We shook them upside down
each time you cut a stem. Clouds of rosey blooms
in vases all throughout the house April, May and June!
Daisies as fresh and pure as a baby’s first delicious howl of life.
Daisies, sunflowers or marigolds? It didn’t matter,
you loved the amber hues. You named me Rosa—
the only flower in your family bouquet. How cool is that?
Lilies and roses to Mamá who loved me first, and to Tías
who nurtured me along the way: Te amo siempre.
Roses red, violets blue, I am who I am because of you.
Roses are pink, geraniums are red, and the birds have been fed.
Whether the one or ones you mothered are furry or human,
biologically related or not, here’s a lavender rose plant,
my favorite, to scent your daily path in tribute to you.
Original prompt: Write about flowers to create a bouquet for Mother’s Day
Frances J. Vasquez, Liz Gonzalez, Sharon Sekhon, Cati Porter, Raine Lefaivre-Naggi, Gregory Anderson, Mary Torregrossa, Ginger Galloway, Rose Y. Monge, Frances T. Borella, Debby Johnson, Thomas Vaden, Natalie Champion, Rob McMurray, Gudelia Vaden