Mulling over Mimosa
clouds of yellow puffs
tethered to a spray of fronds
without roots would float
their powdery glory
evaporating by dusk
ephemeral waifs
maybe mimosa
as metaphor for the fair
sex is moldy, think
daughters as greenwood
flowerlets not to fizzle
mulched when the bloom’s off
rather deep burgeons
nubbly trunks with rippling rings
tall redwood circles
whose roots interlace
in gnarly braids under earth
so none will be felled
Lifting the Red Zone
marguerite daisies
are pleased to bloom alongside
blue veronica
no social distance
necessary due to lack
of orifices
Springtime Gospel Fest
on a rotunda’s
otherwise wasted radius
bursting in chorus
jumbo buttercups
bobbing to the breezy beat
they’re swaying sans feet
no rational grounds
choking off our quintessence
stifled in pleasance
oh, to sprout so straight!
though quivering in nature
no nomenclature
but testifying
belting out those saffron songs
atop of our lungs
By Jeannette Tien-Wei Law, ©2021