A Blossomed Life
by Lena Hansen
I spot a dragonfly perched on emerald green,Second Place Winner
a chipmunk dancing up aged tree bark.
Our white dog lies like a king,
his head held high,
eyes squinting in the sun
as the porcelain birdbath fizzes and hums
to the song of the blue jay
that lives for our raspberry bushes.
Unfolding my legs, I lean forward in my chair
grabbing another handful of nuts
my husband has placed on our glass table.
I think about Layla and her time spent in this very yard,
her strawberry golden hair wrapping around her shoulders
as she would twirl around and around
until she fell on nature’s green blanket,
laughing in the tune of summer.
I eat, I sit back, I welcome the sun on my chest
as she blushes on my peach skin,
her sincere rays floating down through clouds.
Above, cottonwood trees
clap their leaves to mimic whispering rain.
Their sound echoes in my head
and like a game of pinball,
hit on every memory I have of this backyard.
My daughter and the image of her youth
persuades me to reflect on my own,
the strokes that would bleed from my paintbrush
and ascend their way towards open sky,
dripping blues and purples onto the canvas.
My art began gently here,
pictures cultured from those of Monet.
I was creative, impressed by nature and its humblest forms.
Now in my old age,
a blossomed life,
feelings of happiness drift like sand over me
and form my personal oasis.
Memories flood this day with my daughter’s laughter,
my art and my adolescent ambition.
I’m relaxing on my weathered back patio
with rich views of spirited life.