~THOMAS REITER~

FORCING THE FORSYTHIA

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“Feed your cutting one time-release
capsule,” said the packet from Burpee,
“and you’ll be amazed.”  Bending
to spring in a teardrop vase
we find that the window, backlit
by kitchen lights at dawn, reflects
our blossoming branch.  And through that,
inches on the other side, a branch
of the bush that gave us this.  Forsythia
lean toward the clarity between them
as if each has designs on the other.
A wind comes up, honed by river-bottom
thistles and costing us congruence,
then drops off.  The bush corrects itself
so the moment’s optics allot petals
to buds still held in ice—a single
flowering.  And there we are too on the glass.

© by Thomas Reiter