Gazing At Gazanias

By Michelle Mairesse


    The garden is flexing, swelling, aflame


    In sunlight, scalloped, spiked, stippled, striped.


    Imprinted with patterns of their own devise,


    Gazanias surprise with blended brush strokes,


    And plushy golden centers ringed with dots,


    Proffering pollen in a basin of light,


    Yet folding quickly when absent the sun.


    Flowers spent, gazanias mount feathered seeds


    Upon the wind, knowing they are not yet dead.