All winter the jasmine plant was dreary and bare
It sat in the dim laundry room
perhaps grateful simply to be alive.
So much in the garden then was as good as dead.
It was at least protected from the long ice agony
Now after much rain and much heat
Some buds, some blooms appear.
The scent alone draws attention.
The evening silent and lonely has a sweet white consolation.
Sometimes waiting in the dim laundry room, safe and alive at least
I longed to pour forth some strong sweet scent to a warm breeze.
Perhaps,now, after much dim light, after much rain and heat
I might put forth a bud, a white jasmine bloom.