I will kiss

Small and pale, the orchid sings

open in this wintry month

and calls all to lay a gentle

fingertip upon them, then

lifts its head, its paper thin petals

peeling outwards, arms wide

to accept dappled sunshine

melting through the hallway windows

onto its down feather white cheeks,

and it bares its pollen orange polka dots

in the heat, willingly its siblings

sleeping on the vine beside it

to wake up, to taste the humid air

of the inside, to grace each passerby

with a tiny parade of white.


 

Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Signed copies on Etsy

Image by dewdrop157 from Pixabay

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