Jeremy Gadd: ‘The Azalea’

The Azalea

The azalea beside the front door is ablaze
with colour in the early morning sunshine;
each delicate, fine-leafed petal a subtle
combination of multiple hues; from white-
veined with pink to impressionist, pointillist
sprays of deep mauve and purple, like splattered
paint upon a clean palette; its flowers en masse
are resplendent; its multiple stamens, tipped
with pollen, arch and stretch like worshippers
towards the sun, inviting bees and insects to
indulge in its nectar, as observers in its loveliness.
But the leaves and honey from azaleas are toxic and
bouquets in black vases were interpreted as death threats.
If so, let it be the last sight I see as I leap into eternity.

Jeremy Gadd

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