(favorite)

My favorite cup
is lined with
irises,
bearded iris
in every shade
of purple,
yellow

like my mother’s
row along the
length of our
very long drive-
way.
My little brother
picked them for her,
not knowing
bees hovered
in their center,
at the time
of his life
when bees
were his great
teror.
Who was there
I can’t recall,
but they ridiculed
him for his error,
laughing as they
did, until
he ran away
in tears.
Does he bring
his wife home
flowers now?
I do not know.

I myself
will probably
have to be content
with china irises
this year,
since autumn
slipped past
before bulbs
were planted,
as so many
things have done.

2/2/99