Ode To The Wild Broom Poem by Lois Read

The glass of wild broom on the bathroom shelf
one petal already fallen
yellow on the warm oiled wood
says hurry outside
breathe in the full-blown scent
today!

Take it with you in your heart
and your memory
when you are far away
where there are no more broom bushes blooming.

The little bird is chattering
now. Its story is
this morning.
I think it sleeps in the afternoon
so I must listen closely
and memorize its song.

I want to paint it, but
I can't find a color
for the intoxicating scent
of the one perfect rose
that is not quite yellow
not quite apricot
or for the aroma of the rose
or the broom bush
or the tree-sized elderberry
just over the hill.

A painting couldn't catch
the bird chirps
the hum of the mower
the workers laughing
down at the pool
the subtle sweep
of wind-tossed grass.
So I will sing it with my pen
hoping my words
will harmonize
with what the birds sing
with what the wind whispers.

I forgot to tell you
about the purple flower
complementary color
to yellow broom.
I don't know its name, only
that it makes complete
and perfect
this glorious morning.