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Grey Sparrow Journal and Press, as of January 31, 2018 will move to

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Hydrangea Plant in July


The misty dew collects on me in such

oppressive ways.  It clings in pools around

my eyes, condensing into drops, which then

falls at my feet in the early morning quiet.


The hydrangea you gave me is showcased well

in this light.  Uniquely glamorous at its peak.

It’s been ten years, you probably

no longer remember that it was a gift.


The large, perfectly-shaped blue blossoms

are what everyone notices first.

Too bad, few ever see past them

to the rich, deep-veined green leaves


that catch the morning’s softness in a way

that shines such pleasing shades of shadows

on top of chiseled leaf ridges, providing

contrast for the painter’s palette.


In the garden are also Echinacea plants.

Gold finches love them and give

their gratitude with dances and songs in the air.

The seedless hydrangea draws no such suiter,


I hear it is a cultivated thing.  Behind

the hydrangea stand tall stalks of beebalm,

attracting honey bees all day

and silent, mystical hoover birds at dusk.


As for the hydrangea, no doubt it teases

a shape and form that pretends fulfillment,

but provides no real satisfaction or health.

It is a shame.


I notice that some blossoms now

show yellow tinges along the edges.

It won’t be long before their radiance

will be no more, but even then, they’ll keep


their flawless shape.  Preserved in a prim vase,

recalling forever a mid-summer morn. 

                                    -Mike Ambrose