If my flower-and-bird painting–which I left on the wall even after you returned
from the flower show–was in any way heartless, then I certainly do apologize.
I was thinking of taking off (on a short flight, or a long one) the whole time
you were here, when I should have been thinking of nothing but the experience
of fragrance, how not to generate a mood of oppression. Tell me: Has the season passed?
Am I now left to be my own teacher, pressing for explanation, walking dead flowers
from one room to another, remembering when I still believed I had the power to fly?
Prompts: Poetic Asides (take off), NaPoWriMo (long lines — which I know before even hitting “publish” will not display well here), and Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Sen No Rikyu’s poems about tea).