Come October. The bright flush
streaks nature strips. Vivid blobs
dot neighbourhoods. Dazzling blooms
take me back thirty years to you,
harnessed in your pusher, face upturned,
eyes focussed on streets of flitting trees,
branches buzzing, oozing pollen, dripping
clusters of red, bright as blood.
Grabbing at a branch, you held
the filaments of colour so gently
it might have been a small creature.
Stamens stroked your palm, brushed
your cheek. A red bottlebrush
calling us to witness – a callistemon
and a child demonstrating the value
of show don’t tell.
From: https://plumwoodmountain.com/poem/poetry-of-a-bottlebrush/
Date: 2020
By: Elizabeth Anne Gleeson (1955- )
From Troubles of The World 
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