Eyes squinted against the morning sun, I totter into the kitchen and collapse at the table. Tea! My kingdom for my tea! A moment later, my brow wrinkles… there’s a smell I’m smelling, a prelude to a headache brewing. It’s green, peppery, fresh, a bit sweet. It’s forty stems crammed into a jam jar…
Who knew!? Daffodils
Not unscented as I’d thought.
*sinus tingling sneeze*
Fuzzy arms lifted
Life breathed in saffron-lined throat —
My lovely violet(This one only scans if you’re from the West Coast of the US – to me, violet is two syllables, and not three. I always smile when I hear people pronounce the ‘o’ as they do here in Britain. Vi-o-let vs. Vi-let. Hm. Now I’m beginning to think pronouncing the ‘o’ is technically correct. [It is way too early for this.])
So, the whole thing, amended:
Fuzzy arms lifting
Inhale through saffron-lined throat
Sing, Saintpaulia.
A swirl of crème fraiche
Studded with tangy, sweet blue —
Break your fast with pie.