Flowers for Brains

I just want flowers for brains

simple ones,

not the multi-layered, hard-to-draw flowers like the peonies.

No, give me tulips or daisies or lilies,

four-leafed clovers for luck, even,

but not the peonies.

That’s what I want to escape from:

those complicated, ever-unfurling petals,

never-ending thoughts,

ruminating on all the loss of the last four springs,

when everything is supposed to be in bloom.

But loss happens year-round.

Don’t listen to those who get overly excited for the seasons,

nor the ones who ignore them.

We’re still learning to listen with our bones, our hearts, and that peach pit in our stomachs.

But the truth is,

I’m overly attached to the summertime,

and peonies are my favorite.

Fuschia, white, bright or fading,

silky, and delicate

I’ve tried to draw them many times,

no angle appeasing my mind.

I don’t know that I’ve given up,

but I’m surely not trying this season.

I just want flowers for brains,

soft, colorful thoughts

that photosynthesize,

knowing how much of any element I need.

I want thoughts that smell like honeysuckle or jasmine or chocolate cosmos.

Have you ever smelled a chocolate cosmos?

Neither have I,

but these flowers for brains aren’t so afraid of the unknown.

I just want flowers for brains,

a swaying field of dahlias

or heliotropic ranunculus.

If I had flowers for brains, would the bees dance with me more often?

Would the hummingbirds linger longer, letting their guard down?

I just want flowers for brains.