California Buckeye (Aesculus californica)

Sweet clusters of flowers,

white-silver in the twilight, 

the moon waking over the valley.

I could drink this bouquet

of blossoms, like bubbles—forming 

and finishing in an instant. Come, 

let's try to speak before 

night's snuffing cap closes over us,

before all is turned to knobbed seeds

the color of horses nuzzling in the barn, 

hard pits ready to release 

their dangerous weight

in any brisk wind. Let's sit together

while the crinkled petals last.

 

Workshop leader, tutor, and mom, with roots in spoken word, KATHRYN PETRUCCELLI holds an MA in teaching English language learners. Read more.


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Excerpt from “A Tapestry of Browns and Greens”

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The Spruce Root Basket Weaver Considers Her Impending Ornamentation