Black Orchid

Black Orchid

(After Emerson)

In May,

when strangers met,

abilities

of ours altered;

we masters of disguise

absorbing nutrients

out of light air,

could change the colors

of our eyes and hair.

To please our strength,

force fields were kept on,

and twig by limb a nest

the mourning dove

made our defenses

charmings intent on;

all in warm shadows of

sage and foxglove.

Black orchid! if the flowers

ask you why

you dreamt my spine

and leaves with earthen eye,

tell them, dear, that if dreams were

meant for truth, nightwaking

and daysleep is simple proof;

why strangers met,

O iris-rival, I…

I still don’t understand…

it isn’t clear…

But in my weakness—

faith—I don’t ask why

and venture what

brings me, lets you

grow here.