nature blue meadow plant

They grew at the bottom of the hill
at the edge of the woods
where the brook ran
those delicate blooms all pale blue with tiny yellow centers,
they were almost too small to pick. I used scissors,
put them in tiny vases of water on the window sill
to catch sunlight and moonlight
in stages. And It turns out
I could not forget you, even with
the long years spent apart
as you married and remarried,
and the perennial cycle
couldn’t hold;
those flowers were too far delicate,
and you?
You proved fragile, too
after your wives all fled
dying in your hospice bed
whispering, I love you on Zoom as our last.

Penny Freeland

Penny Freeland is a NYC transplant. She moved to the Outer Banks of NC, which satisfies her need to be near the ocean. Her poetry is urban, yet full of nature, a reflection of her new surroundings. Her work has appeared in fine journals, such as Rattle, Black Rock and Sage, Red Booth Review, Eclectia and Bird & Dog. She teaches English at American Public University.