Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Blossoms in Verse

Frost is coming (they say, tonight) and so I closed my garden, collected all the not-yet-ripened tomatoes, wrapped them in newspaper and put them to rest in the basement, where they will turn red and be ready to eat in a few weeks.

The flowers watched as I planted wheatgrass seeds for winter ground cover and collected lavender, sage, mint and tarragon for drying. 

I think they were concerned that I might be plucking them next. Not to worry, I told them. I will take your photograph and write a poem for each of you, in French (to exercise my brain) and immortalize you on my blog;  so that when the snows come and you've long since dried and crumbled, your beauty will still shine, for as long as these words and pictures remain.

They gave me their permission. And so here they are. May I proudly present:   My plucky cappucines, my beautiful cosmos, and the ever vibrant Miss Brilliant Red Flower, whose family name I do not know.  Voila, alors, mes petites fleures!

                              fin de la saison                                 
                              peut-être nous resterons                                     
                             deux semaines de plus   

                                                  end of season
                                                  perhaps we'll stay
                                                  two weeks more                              


                                 même ceux avec des pétales manquants               
                                 boire du soleil                                                      
                                 et elles fleurissent  

                                                   even those with missing petals
                                                   drink of the sun
                                                   and blossom                                        

                             mes petites fleurs                                               
                             dansent dans le vent,                                          
                             ils n'ont pas besoin de la musique     

                                             my little flowers
                                             dancing in the wind
                                             they have no need of music        

                              Pas honte de faire étalage de sa rougeur,              
                              elle chante de Rouge;
                              les couleurs aussi ont une passion
                              pour la vie

                                                not ashamed to show her blush,
                                                she sings of red;
                                                colors also have passion
                                                for life
*photos by awyn  9/18/2010

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