Slightly lightly we began to notice and
to speak of wildflowers growing
by the garage in the back garden
and placed lawn chairs there just right
for evening conversation.
   
In the waning warmth of September days
we painted those wildflowers
on the white stucco garage wall
the celandine poppy and prairie aster
the primrose and purple coneflower.

Now in December we stand
at the kitchen window just right
for sunshine at mid-day and
in silence watch as winter's light 
plays across the colors painted
when the flowers faded in the fall.

These summer wildflowers
the real and the painted
have taught our eyes to hear
music deep in winter's night.

Hear that? 
   Yes.
Is it purple or gold or pink or yellow?     
   Blue.
It is blue?
   Yes.
And how does blue sound?
   Like a little girl singing

   standing alone in our garden of wildflowers.
Is this little girl herself a wildflower?
   Yes, I do think so.