Flower Operetta
in sonnet
My
flowers stage a concert of their own,
indicative of their dear style and voice.
While Trumpeter blares like a slow trombone,
Day Lily hums the Morning's hymn of choice.
Grand Rose within my trellis stands and quakes,
each tremor such, a diva could arouse,
and Cactus shrieks until her heart soon breaks,
with broken heartstrings shattered 'cross her brows.
Peach Blossom’s croon awakes with such a twang
that tulips chime to Canterbury Bells
and violets in concert cease to clang,
combining pitch with singing cockleshells.
From garden's bed for me they eulogize
with operatic grace they can’t disguise.
*View as a Sestina*
