The brilliance of Holly’s poetic acumen is a match to the Oleander’s beauty.
Sun showers mist the window
pane in veiny tributaries that trickle
down with a warm touch.
Trajectories of icy trails run down
the mountains, an affirmation of
summer, pink buds of oleander.
Remain with me until birds
sing of our disparity, until
reality overshadows illusion
and dew drops blend with tears.
Then we will part.