Floral Mist by Mary Lou Meyers

Note: My classmate Mary Lou Meyers sent this to me after Thanksgiving, but the first line, “The common language of love,” seems perfect for February. And just today, I purchased a card at Trader Joe’s for Valentine’s Day that says on the front: “love is spoken here.”
Photo from Photo Bucket

The common language of Love,
brought my niece, Carolyn, and Afshin, born in Iran,
together.
Thanksgiving we met his extended family,
strangers, foreigners to those with home-bound roots.
They felt only at home with their own,
sitting on one end of the table.
We lacked their facile tongue,
and so we sat on the other.
Until my daughter found a common ground,
spoke of the tender loving care at Longwood Gardens
toward plants, cultivars from all lands.
The wild exotic way the flowers danced
from one end of the table to the other,
culminating in the 1,416 bloom Chrysanthemum,
grafted on from common stems and magnified.
A combined force drives them in perfect symmetry
like the golden orb of the sun,
whose luminosity comes together.
Each one distinct and perfect in its own way.
What magic potion in the herbs sprinkled on the turkey?
What rice dish filled to the brim
with their strange concoctions?
What fluid delight brought them to a toast?
They laid the groundwork of Love.
Pollen infused the common air we breathed.
A Light seemed to flicker from above,
words danced in an exotic way through
their dark Persian tongue
when they got the gist of the hypnotic Floral Mist.

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