BLOSSOMING

 

BLOSSOMING

How did we not know when we were younger

We were breathing on a windowpane of stars

Every day at twilight we were being or

At naptimes with the door to dream ajar

How did we not guess that every blossom

In the summer yard would always bloom

Pink and rosy while we both played possum

As Grandmother said, just peeking in our room

How much we wanted then to stay awake

If only for the pink blossom’s sake

For all our blossoming, swift as afternoons.

Mary angela douglas 29 january 2024

P.S. "playing possum" is an old Southern expression (in the U.S.) often referring to children pretending to be asleep when they are not, as well as other scenarios I dont know a thing about referring to the possum's abioity to feign sleep.