Desert broom is a very common wild-growing plant here. In fact, it is quite weedy, and I've often resented it cropping up in my garden areas. Its tenacious roots make it difficult to remove once it has really taken hold.
But this year I’ve become much more aware of its benefits, especially after watching how important it was to the bees in late summer when nothing else was in flower. Their enthusiasm over its bloom in the midst of a brutally dry season encouraged me to reconsider its advantages myself.
All of which is a long introduction to this rather brief poem! (To read more about desert broom, here is the Wikipedia entry.) The “stars” that I refer to in the poem are the spent bracts—dry and straw-colored, but strangely lovely—that remain on the plants long after even the fluff-borne seeds have disappeared.
Desert Broom
The foliage has dropped
From desert broom;
It lasts but a month or twain.
The flowers are spent
On desert broom,
They flew with the wind and the rain.
The seeds have fallen
From desert broom,
For the year is far in the wane.
And on bare, green stems
Of desert broom
Now only the stars remain.
This is a haiku composed while walking Felix the Shepsky pup. Fortunately we’ve avoided any bad results from too-close contact with the agaves so far!
We always must check
round the agave corner
where lizards skitter
I am endlessly fascinated by the marvelous effects of the play of sun and shadow on the mountains. With the sun still so near the winter solstice, of course, the angles and illusions are much different than during the summer months. The other day I had to look twice…
On the mountainsides
strange new edifices are built
by the winter sun
And snow has arrived on the high peaks!
Across the valley
snow’s crept further down the slopes
morning by morning
Cold Afternoon
Late afternoon
(Sunset comes soon)
The sun is a blur
Of bright white fur
Where the gray clouds brush
As the daylight’s hushed
And the evening falls
While the woodpecker calls
(She is very wise)
For wind’s on the rise
And the sun is cold
In deep furs rolled;
Her voice gives alarm,
“Stay warm, stay warm!”
A wonderful collection of poems, further painting that beautiful picture you always build with your words.
A Shepsky? Is that a mélange of sheperd and husky?
So lovely. I especially like Desert Bloom. Not knowing what this plant is I read and pictured it from your poem before googling it... 🌱