Nom de Plumes

Another Iris poem. First appeared in Time of Singing. This is reposted from Berg’s Ink several years ago. Did I say I like irises?

Nom de Plumes

rises green from the dried husk
of an abandoned rhizome.

The iris blooms white, radiant
defiant in her perfection.

The box of late summer
catalog iris orders sat
undisturbed in the chaos
of a cluttered garage through
the entire fall and winter
not discovered until
a late spring cleanup.

Small nubbins of roots
were the only visible signs
of not quite total decay.

In May, in a sigh for the waste,
I buried the remains in the ground
without a bare tincture of hope.

And in the fall, flowers
Mother Nature, Total Recall and all.
A blooming miracle.

c. Darlene Moore Berg


1 Comment

Filed under Nature, Seasonal

One response to “Nom de Plumes

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