Today's poem is by Kimberly Johnson
Sonnet
No seduction in the hothouse, its aisles
of deliberate orchids only heave
beneath ceiling fans. The horticulturist's
a bawdher monstrous offspring affront
with chromatic perfection, charm in array.But when the orange orchard blossoms,
I am thrown.Raptures in the garden? Never once did rows
of carrot so well-weeded yield
a swoon. Beware that flim-flam man,
the farmer, I grouse in passing, sowing
season by season an almanac theology.But when orange blossoms wave
in pneumatic arcades, I dither. I coo. I hallelu.
Copyright © 2003 Kimberly Johnson All rights reserved
from 32 Poems
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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