Daisies Are Always Pure

Daisies Are Always Pure

(For Catherine)

I have a friend
who lives with daisies,
stands under daisies
that often turn
upside down.

Sky drips
between petals
upon the lady,
my friend
under the daisy.

Poets can live
under a daisy,
grow with daisies
or into a daisy.

Petals
bend, shift
to catch what can be caught,
speak what can be spoken.

With velvet strength
she plucks petals:
"He loves me…"
This petal
a holiness
of words.

She visits
a buckwheat hill
encircled
by the greeness of pine,

rising like
a shrine to daisies,
that harbors
daisy beds.

Only unicorns
(who rarely visit)
can pierce
a daisy's heart,
to coat a horn
with pollen

and grow daisies
other places,
other times.



ã Patricia Crane 2002