Hostas are sending up their long, slender stalks.
They’ll soon be bowing with the weight,
Of clusters of white blossoms tinged with lavender,
Their faces shyly drooping downward.
Their full green skirts tremble and sway, glistening,
Touched by drops from the spray of the sprinkler.
Bumble bees busily gather nectar, adding their hum to the sounds of the day.
A robin perches atop the tall wood fence, singing her song.
Her youngster, with spotted breast and cocky air joins her there.
Watching and waiting,
Hoping for a freshly washed earthworm in the wet soil.
Hydrangeas display shades of blue and pink
Round flowering heads nestling among their wide leaves.
The prima donnas of the garden, with the showiest blooms,
They hoist huge balls of flowerets aloft, some sky blue,
Others, shades of pink and purple.
The peonies’ rosy blossoms have come and gone.
Bursting with their sweet-perfume,
They reward me every spring.
From my grandmother’s garden,
They thrive and multiply in the fence corner,
Reminding me of her love of bright flowers.
She taught me to thin and divide these plants,
As gifts of love for friends and neighbors.
Happiest working in her flowers, smiling and humming,
She delighted in each new bud,
Anticipating its radiance as it spread its petals,
Allowing its fragrance to waft through the air.
I share her pleasure.