Picture Snob

June 16, 2011

A tribute to the wild azaleas


I follow the scent
of air sagging
with sweetness.
I find them
In deep shadow
under the pine trees,
great mounds of them.

They blare color like trumpets--
pink, yellow and white merge
on fluted edge,
and furl outward,
opening to the
of pistil and stamen
tipped with green.

I gather masses of their savage beauty.

They refuse
to be arranged in vases

They cling to their wild intractability

The rain shadow that makes
their profusion possible
ends at my land.
Every spring I am blessed
with their untamed and
rash extravagance--

They who have never known shame.

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Posted by Marilyn Renaker at June 16, 2011 8:06 AM
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