Spring’s Love Letter: Azalea

The gardens were on fire,
Set ablaze with colour.
Pink poured from the earth in great waves, climbing through the trees and swallowing the paths whole.
Azaleas hung from the blackened bush limbs.
The crooked pregnant tree
splitting and bursting with fertile blossoms.
They held their breath all winter.
Light wove through leaves and reached out to kiss my cheeks. I blushed at sunlight’s passionate kiss.
*
In the pollen-dusted air, a mirage appears.
Mother nature births a figure of light
With a dress that veils her delicate curves.
The ruby at her throat burns red against the soft pale skin.
Her fingers split into green joints, blossoms bleeding through her fingernails.
Crimson blooms release a sweet rot.
Inhale as her palm branches to her face.
Swallowed by sunlight.
My arms root open, grasping into vastness.
She mimics my movement
as we dissolve.
Petals weep from my eyes.
I have found her.
It is I.