The rhododendron in Monroe
from the picture window of my childhood home,
that gave us, every year, its first bloom on the fourth
of June. Lilacs every April,
a constant hedge of baby’s breath. These things
still happen in my absence.
And, at the edge of the yard, where all my efforts cease,
the wild tiger lilies are opening,
tangled in the forsythia,
just where the woods begin.
“Perennial” by Kendra Tanacea from A Filament Burns in Blue Degrees. © Lost Horse Press, 2017. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)