Looking at the camellias that are blossoming and dropping their moppy heads everywhere these days, I was reminded of the old Can-Can skirts of Paris, and this poem developed from that idea. Thank you for coming by to read!
Camellia,
Your fringe unfolds,
You energetic dancer.
Your petticoats
Do curtsies, swirls.
Your stamens kick, in answer.
What wondrous, sloppy
Disrepair:
Now that your season’s over,
You line the lawn
With mottled blooms
That wrinkle in the clover.
A generation
Screams, runs riot!
Blushes, pink with shame.
And drops, like soggy
Silken scarves,
Rotting in the rain.
Copyright 2020 Andrea LeDew
Thank you for this wonderful holiday gift: your special newsletter. That‘s a treasure to be read many times. On this morning‘s first reading, my favorites are the ones with most connections to my past (and yours): Chopin‘s Tristesse on the Fire Escape (with your mother’s “mon dieu” in my ears), Eiswein—the memory of my first sip of that miraculous creation, and then one of my favorite flowers, Camellia—beautiful even in death. And finally, that delightful Snow story with the orangeball fight! Made me miss both Minnesota and Florida here in our green Missouri December. Happy Holidays, dear Andrea!
Margrit
Thank you so much Margrit! My camellia bush is bursting with red right now, right on schedule. It is good at least to have known the bitter cold of Minnesota before withdrawing to milder Southern climes. Kind of a test ofcharacter, in a way. A very merry Christmas and happy new year to you and yours!!
And if you miss Florida, you are welcome anytime!
Just wanted to let you know I loved your comment so much that I put it at the foot of my “About” page. Thanks again!
I love this! It makes me miss my Virginia camellias. Sigh . . .
Thankyou Liz! Where are you now? ive forgotten. The whole bush is drooping with blooms, by the way!
I’m in New Hampshire now.