Botanically speaking, the plant names
trip on the tongue with some effort (mine)
but once murmured, sound like the tune to an old song
I’ve known all my life, the words rolling off in
chunks of meaning as I pass by a rainbow of familiar flora –
oleander-pinnate, poisonous, softened by pink and purple
eucalyptus–fragrance in crushed wood, leaving the warmth of summer on the wind,
agapanthusamethyst blooms, towering hedge-high
bougainvillea-starburst magenta gems on a stem
mandevilla-fluted swirls of indigo, twirling tendrils, fence-tight
jacaranda-lavender floating ballerinas, suspended sky-high
crape myrtle–rainbow sherbet colored curls
manzanita–bronzy branches, twisted trunks
hibiscus–deep throated petals of the South Pacific.
I carry the colors home, sorting out the images
remembering the days
when summer lived in my yard
while the pictures, people and places
I ferry home in my heart.

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