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.