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RUTH
Flower Shop
Days when trade is dull
I dream of flowers that do not grow in dozens
Wired for a funeral or a fête.
Somewhere
I imagine meadows swaying
With whatever colour they may be,
Ten thousand thousand blossoms
Free their hearts
To a robin or a chick-a-dee.
And I may pull them for everyone's possession.
Companion all the city children,
To old ladies send surprise bouquets,
Pin a flower on my lover's jacket
Every noon at one.
And if the sun is over-hot with shining
And the night is late to come,
It is no matter.
There'll be just as many more
Tomorrow morning
Fresh to feel the sun.
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