Geraniums in Spring

1.

My geraniums in winter grow leggy
and now the blooms,
too heavy, bear green stems down.
Stems lean like a fast-growing girl
who has grown too tall,
so bends
to be one with her friends.

2.

Spring brings growing pains to these plants
I have carried over,
lined up by a window with glass.

They are now wheeled out to the porches,
fertilized, cut back
on the way the way to another childhood,

a resurrection that depends on growth,
not one I think I would welcome,
but who knows, who knows?

3.

There is this about carry-overs:
they are persistent,
insistent that their time has come

to do whatever they want,
and be left alone
to receive respect that is due them;

while what I want
are plants that will go on blooming
where sun is strong

and wind carries with it the weather
insects and mold,
and not requiring my protection.

I am like God, inflicting a healthy punishment,
enforcing growth,
so that I can enjoy the blossoms:

reds, pinks and oranges,
even whites
with my pride on the line

4.

There's a smell to age that, at best,
is metallic, sour;
or a stench as strong as cat litter,
that may be a sign of cancer;

or the breath of bowels
where incontinents, in a ring of wheelchairs
are on display
where visitors are expected.

By contrast, the fragrance of geraniums
is a smell that's clean,
even left outside for the winter.
Brown geranium leaves release an astringent scent.

The bowl of potpourri, dark blue and round,
is here to cleanse the air
as fans distract from ears the patient sounds..