I Thought They Were Sleeping

I thought that my white gardenia buds were sleeping in winter's arms, said Princess Haiku, except that they were not. They were listening to Maria Callas singing from La Wally.

Beauty establishes its Own Communion

Today, was a cold gray day in Northern California. As I walked home in the drizzle I thought about a comment made by Jorge, a friend of mine.

"Beauty establishes its own communion."

As I mused along these words resonated in my mind. I realized that I haven't written any poetry in quite a while. His words called to the poetry hiding within.

There are mother-of-pearl gray days such as these; subtle moments when the deeper self rises up as wings to touch the rain. "Poet," I tell myself, "your poetry is never far away. Today is a blue gray opal hiding in cumulous clouds and white gardenias." Speaking of which, my gardenia plant offered me a flower and I am intoxicated with its gentle fragrance.