Under the Catalpa Tree

I see it there knowing
full well
its cycled presence
through daily passing.

The wide green expanse
a guardian canopy.
And think, I’d like to lie out
under the catalpa tree,

in the cool, purpled shade
of its umbrella leaves–
watch the orchid
blossoms fall.

Feel them land light
on my skin
like remembered whispers
from promised days,

to be still; as layer
on layer of weightless petal
hide me from view
until every breath becomes

their heady, fetid
perfume. Vision blurred
by creamy mouths
and spotted throats.

To lie, still, to wait
as days count out
and blossoms rot,
with me, together

to weep into the earth,
ears filling. Silent,
breath escaping
with my spirit

to float as a universe of pollen
flees in the early
summer wind–
to fly far, and far away.

Header photograph © Matthew Yates.